


Hungry Ghosts

by MythicallySnappy



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Boys Being Idiots, College, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Smut, Underage Drinking, the holy trinity of fanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2018-11-02 07:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10940031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicallySnappy/pseuds/MythicallySnappy
Summary: It’s the summer after freshman year and Rhett and Link are back at home in Buies Creek.  An uncomfortable experience at a party flips Rhett’s world upside down and Link is there to help him build a new one.





	1. We Built Another World

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty folks, here we go with another serial! I've had the idea for this one brewing for maybe close to a year, but I'm trying to bring it to life (quickly) with help from the prompts from the [Rhink Summer Ficathon 2k17](https://rhinkficathons.tumblr.com*a*a) on tumblr!
> 
> I'll just go ahead and give a great big shout out to my always fabulous and incredibly astute beetas [Lauren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision) and [Amanda](http://archiveofourown.org/users/amanderjean)! You guys are honestly the best of the best, I love you both a LOT. I'd also like to give a quick thanks to [Heather](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCynthiana) for the content check. Thank you!!
> 
> I'm always, always, endlessly inspired by the indie rock jams of my youth, and each chapter of this fic is inspired by a different song off of Wolf Parade's 2005 album [Apologies to the Queen Mary](https://youtu.be/VKmixRYUFBE), although not every song is included and not in the order that they're presented on the album. I've created a playlist [HERE](https://youtu.be/GEnIYAfo2a0?list=PLHHo8v802YjMcmBPUr_SpAH4jw0tRsDX0) that should follow along with each chapter that I'll be updating as I add chapters to this fic.
> 
>  _A Hungry ghost is a concept in Chinese Buddhism and Chinese traditional religion representing beings who are driven by intense emotional needs in an animalistic way._ [[x](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hungry_ghost)]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter deals with issues of consent. If you're very sensitive to that type of material, you may want to skip it.
> 
> Inspired by [We Built Another World](https://youtu.be/GEnIYAfo2a0?list=PLHHo8v802YjMcmBPUr_SpAH4jw0tRsDX0) by Wolf Parade and the prompts **Crowd** and **Sweat** for the [Rhink Summer Ficathon 2k17](https://rhinkficathons.tumblr.com)!
> 
>   
>   
>  [[img](http://www.deeperdivesundays.org/tree-meditations.html)]

     “What’s the hold up, McLaughlin?” Ben Thomas’ eyes crinkle as he glances across the crowded room at Stephanie Harwood. She’s pretty— little and blonde— and she’s been absolutely haunting Rhett all night; her arm like a chain at his wrist, laughing too hard at jokes that should fall flat, trailing her dainty fingers up and down his chest. Ben’s brother, Will, digs an elbow into Rhett’s side.  
      “She’s _fine_ , McLaughlin,” he chuckles. “And I reckon she’d give you more than a kiss.”

     Rhett’s mouth goes dry as he chokes out a laugh. Stephanie’s pretty, sure, but he’s just not interested. There’s no reason he shouldn’t be head over heels, with her plump little lips and a round, pert backside, but every time the trill of her laugh cuts through the room his skin crawls just a little. The party is loud and someone bumps his elbow, sloshing a few, fat droplets of lager onto the parquet.  
     “Yeah, guys, she’s _fine_ , alright,” Rhett says with a shrug. “Not really my type, though.”

     Ben sprays a fine mist of beer all over Rhett with an obnoxious laugh.  
     “Not your _type?!_ Who am I even talking to? Rhett, man, your type is anything with a pair of lips and a pair of tits,” Ben guffaws. Dragging his forearm over his face with a revolted groan, Rhett wipes away the spray of liquid with a forced laugh.  
     “I know man,” he manages to spit out. “But she’s _clingy_ , y’know? No chase or anything.”  
     “You’re nuts,” Will pipes up. “Get _in_ there, McLaughlin.” He gets a hand around Rhett’s bicep and pushes him into the throng of tipsy college students.

     Rhett sighs as he scans the crowd. Link is in the kitchen talking to a couple guys from high school who ended up going to Chapel Hill, and his eyes glimmer in the low light when he makes eye contact with Rhett. He’s making big, sweeping gestures, with a smile so wide that Rhett thinks his cheeks must hurt. Link’s voice pierces through the Puff Daddy song that’s blaring over the speakers.  
     “…And then that guy,” he points at Rhett, “he lands right on top of me, wouldn’t let me move at all. ‘ _I’m dead_ ,’ he said. What a jackass.” He’s laughing though, and Rhett can tell he’s not mad about it. Rhett smiles back at Link, about to head towards him when he feels a tiny arm snake around his own.

     “Hey there, _big guy_ ,” Stephanie says. She flutters her eyelashes and gives him a sickly smile.  
     “Oh, hey, Steph,” Rhett manages.  
     “You, uh, wanna go upstairs maybe? It’s kinda loud down here.” Her big brown eyes sparkle with mischief and a lump forms in Rhett’s throat. He doesn’t really want to, he doesn’t, but he hears Ben and Will’s voices echoing around inside his head and he swallows hard and gives Stephanie a quick nod. She’s really pretty. Yeah, she is.  
     “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess. Sure.”

     Stephanie lets out a squeal and weaves her little fingers between his own. She leads him toward the staircase and Rhett casts a quick glance over his shoulder. He sees Link’s smile falter, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm along the side of his beer bottle. A chill runs up Rhett’s spine and the overwhelming sensation of guilt settles into his stomach, but the little hand inside his tugs hard and he narrowly avoids tripping up on the first stair.

     “…I just get _so_ overwhelmed in big crowds like that, y’know,” Stephanie titters. “Besides,” she says, “I think I’d like to get to know _you_ better.” Rhett lets out a soft grunt of mild agreement and brings his bottle up to his lips and drains it, instantly wishing for another. “Just up here,” she says, leading him to the last bedroom down the hall. Rhett lets out a deep breath. Okay.

     The bedroom is small but clean; pale blue walls and a neatly made twin-sized bed. Stephanie gives him a toothy grin as she spins the lock on the door knob until it clicks. She doesn’t waste a second, and her little hands are instantly pressing against his chest, pushing him backwards until his knees buckle when they come in contact with the bed.  
     “Gosh Rhett,” she breathes, slowly straddling his long thighs with her own. She runs her hands through her hair and the room slowly fills with the floral scent of her shampoo. “I used to see you on campus all the time,” she whispers, her teeth grazing his earlobe. Rhett swallows nervously as he decides to put his hands on her legs— but not too high up as to suggest too much, about four inches below the hem of her skirt. “I’d see you going into the library” she says, her hands moving down around her own hips, slowly gathering the bottom of her blouse. “I always wondered if— if, you know,” she says with a giggle and a nip to his earlobe, “if you were just as big _down there_.” She leans back and pulls her shirt up and over her head with a flourish, and with a quick reach behind her back, her bra comes loose and she shrugs the straps off her shoulders and the lacy garment joins her shirt on the floor.

     Rhett’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head. His mouth is as dry as a desert and he silently prays for another beer to materialize on the bedside table. He wills himself not to move his hands, lest Stephanie notice how sweaty his palms are.

     Her tits are nice, definitely— small but juicy, with just the right amount of perk and fleshy, light brown nipples. But Rhett’s frozen, his mouth agape. Stephanie gives him a smirk with another flick of her hair.  
     “It’s okay,” she says, her hands running up her flat stomach, cupping her breasts from the sides. “You can touch ‘em.” But Rhett can’t move, except to give her thighs a quick squeeze, mentally kicking himself with the reminder of how wet his palms must feel. “Alright then,” Stephanie says, and she grabs Rhett’s cheeks in her hands and plunges in for a kiss, locking her lips around his and pulling the air from his lungs like a vacuum. Rhett always thought that the right person would take his breath away, but it seemed more like a figure of speech than a literal descriptor. “Aw, he’s shy,” she says as she pulls away. “That’s okay, I think I know how to warm you up.”

     She slides off of his legs and then between them, settling onto her knees on the carpeted floor. Her hands run down his chest until they fiddle with the button on his waistband. She looks up at him, doe-eyed and with a faint blush cresting the apples of her cheeks.  
     “Would you like that?” she asks as she pops open his button and tugs down the zipper. He can’t seem to respond either way, so he just watches as she pulls his boxers down. “Don’t be scared,” she purrs. She pulls him free, and places a sweet kiss at the tip of his soft cock. “Come on, baby,” she says with a slow, deliberate lick up his length. “Let’s see how _big_ this big boy gets.” And with that, she’s got her lips wrapped around him with her tongue swirling around like a cyclone.

     Rhett watches as she bobs her head, but he can’t fight the nagging feeling that he isn’t enjoying this nearly as much as he ought to be. He closes his eyes and tries to concentrate on her soft lips, her wet tongue— anything but his embarrassing inability to achieve even the slightest of erections. She’s nothing if not persistent though, and he feels the gentle vibration of a humming moan travel through his completely limp dick and into his abdomen. But it doesn’t help either, it just feels uncomfortable, like an itch he can’t scratch.

     “Steph,” Rhett manages to choke out. He pushes her back gently with a hand to her bare shoulder. She looks up at him with her eyebrows furrowed and a deep pout on her slippery lips.  
     “What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice pitching upwards. “Did I do something? Don’t you like me, Rhett?”  
     “No, it’s not— I don’t know why this is happening, I— this hasn’t ever happened to me before,” Rhett sputters, wiping away the beads of sweat at his temples. “I’m sorry Steph,” he says, tucking himself back inside his boxers and pulling up his jeans. “I can’t do this.”

     He doesn’t even have his pants zipped up completely by the time he’s out the bedroom door, leaving Stephanie on her knees at the side of the bed. He whips down the stairs, skipping a step on each stride down, and bulldozes his way through the party and out the front door.

     The daytime May heat has burned off, low into the sixties, and a wave of goosebumps spreads up his back and down his arms. He buries his clenched fists deep within his pockets as he takes long, quick strides away from the party house and down toward Main Street.

     “Rhett!” a voice calls out from behind him. It isn’t Steph. “Rhett wait!” It’s Link. Rhett slows his pace and slowly turns on his heel to see him darting down the front steps with an amber beer bottle in each hand. He quickly falls into step with Rhett and hands him a bottle. Rhett doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what to say. “You alright there, bo?” Link asks.  
     “Uh,” Rhett says intelligently. “I’m not sure, to be honest.” Link knits his eyebrows together but doesn’t press him.

     They walk in tandem along the shoulder of the road. They sip their beer quietly for about a quarter of a mile.

     “So,” Link says quietly, the toe of his sneaker kicking a small rock into the road. “Did you have a good time tonight?” Rhett lets out a humorless snort.  
     “No,” he says briefly. “I had a bad, bad time tonight.” Link doesn’t say anything for another minute.  
     “Steph’s pretty.”  
     “Yeah,” Rhett says, a hot flush of embarrassment rising up his cheeks. “I know.” Link looks up at him with his head cocked.  
     “What happened up there, man? You left in an awful hurry.”

     Rhett lets out a pained groan, bringing up his free hand to his temple. “I couldn’t do it, man. She wanted to— she was— well, she…” he raises his eyebrows and gives a quick tugging gesture in front of his mouth. “And I couldn’t… I couldn’t get it up.” Link blinks quickly and his head jerks back.  
     “Oh, _shit_ , man,” Link says, but his tone is softer. “I mean, it happens to everyone at some point.”  
     “Has it ever happened to you?” Rhett asks.  
     “Well, no,” Link answers truthfully. “But I don’t think you’re a freak or anything.” Rhett lets out a gentle huff.  
     “But here’s the thing,” he says, taking a deep pull from his bottle. “I didn’t _want_ her. I didn’t want it. And it’s not because she isn’t _sexy as hell_ , and it’s not because she wasn’t any good at it. I just… I couldn’t get into it. I didn’t want to be up there.” He lets out a quiet laugh. “I would’ve rather been down in the kitchen with you.”

     Link’s eyes go wide and he walks a little bit slower, and slower still as they approach the turnoff to Link’s street. Rhett slows down to match him, watching closely as Link lobs his empty bottle into the ditch at the side of the road. The sound of glass shattering is jarring in the dead of night. Rhett’s heart picks up a beat as Link comes to a stop and his hand wraps hesitantly around Rhett’s wrist.  
     “Rhett, I—“ Link starts, his big blue eyes reflecting the bright light from the waxing moon. “I— don’t freak out, okay?”

     And then Link’s palms are sliding up Rhett’s cheeks and Link’s lifting himself onto the tips of his toes and his lips are pressing gently against Rhett’s own. The bottle slips out of Rhett’s slippery hand and the second explosion of the evening goes off at their feet; fireworks of broken glass in a spray against their exposed calves. It’s not like kissing Stephanie, like a spectre sucking the life out of him. It’s like another world is building itself right in front of his eyes— _Link_. It takes a beat for Rhett’s body to catch up to his brain, and his hands spring to life from hanging limply at his sides, smoothing over the thin fabric of Link’s t-shirt and up and around his shoulder blades. A small moan escapes Link’s throat and Rhett’s tongue sneaks through his own lips and presses at the crease between Link’s to taste it. Link’s lips part immediately and Rhett dips his tongue into the soft, wet heat of his mouth, laced with the tinge of beer. Links palms slide down and clasp the tops of Rhett’s shoulders and Rhett can feel the way his hands are shaking and he wants nothing more than to soothe him. One hand supports the back of Link’s neck and the other rests at the dip of his waist, pulling him close against the length of his body. Link’s tongue is bolder than his hands, prodding and exploring Rhett’s mouth with hunger and curiosity.

     When they part, Rhett takes in a gulp of air, his head spinning from oxygen deprivation. Link steps back, careful to avoid the broken glass at his feet. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are gleaming, a nervous smile playing at the corners of his lips.

     “I’ll, uh— I’ll see you later, okay Rhett?” he asks, heading down the road towards his house.

     Rhett’s stunned, speechless, but manages to choke out a farewell. “Yeah, later. See ya.” He stands in the middle of the crossroads watching Link walk out of the dull orange halo of the street lamp and disappear like a ghost into the darkness beneath the overhang of trees. He realizes then, that he’s hard— rock solid— and that his breath has been _completely_ , metaphorically taken away.


	2. Shine a Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [Shine a Light](https://youtu.be/Kh8-r6O43Rw?list=PLHHo8v802YjMcmBPUr_SpAH4jw0tRsDX0) by Wolf Parade, and the prompt **Float** for the [Rhink Summer Ficathon 2k17](https://rhinkficathons.tumblr.com)!
> 
>   
>  [[img](http://www.dltk-kids.com/puzzles/jigsaw/index.asp?id=20160608)]

     Link isn’t at church the next morning. Rhett spends the entire service twiddling his thumbs in his Sunday best; craning his neck every time he hears the door creak open; squinting away his hangover in the kaleidoscopic light streaming through the stained glass windows.

     He finds Sue after service is over, looking lovely as usual, her dark brown hair carefully coiffed into big, bouncing curls and topped with a shimmery gold church hat with floral decals and a wisp of tulle.

     “Rhett!” Sue says with a beaming smile, pulling him in for a hug, her hand pat-pat-patting him between the shoulders. Rhett gives her a tight squeeze, smirking when she lets out a shrill giggle. He tugs at the hem of his dress-shirt as he pulls away, trying to quiet the memory of the taste of Link’s tongue while he’s talking to his mother.  
     “Good to see you, ma’am,” Rhett says. “But where’s Link?”  
     “He’s working with his father out in Boone this week. Left this morning. I thought the two of you were out together last night, he didn’t tell you?” she asks. Rhett feels a bit hot under the collar and reaches to undo the top button.  
     “Must’ve slipped his mind,” Rhett replies and clears his throat, but his stomach sinks. “I’ll give him a call later.”

     When Rhett finally gets home, he hammers the number to Link’s dad’s house into the keypad so hard his mother shoots him a glare. The phone rings and rings and rings and rings before he finally gives up and sets the handset into the receiver with a heavy sigh.  
     “What’s wrong, baby?” Diane asks him.  
     “Link’s not picking up,” Rhett says, unable to mask his disappointment. “He’s working up in Boone this week.”  
     “Well it’s about time that boy got a job,” Diane says with a dismissive flick of the wrist, pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator and piling them on top of a cutting board. “College boys like you gotta earn your keep.”

     Normally Rhett might’ve put up a fight, quick to defend his friend’s honor, but he just nods along and sinks into the couch, his mind flatlining as he flicks numbly through the channels on TV.

     No matter how hard Rhett tries, he can’t sleep that night, tossing and turning and tying his sheets into knots around his long legs. He flips his pillow over once, twice, thrice; lays with his head at the foot of the bed; tries to count sheep; and still gets up twice to pee, just for something to do. He feels empty and barely alive, and doesn’t manage to catch a single wink until the cold light of morning.

     Monday goes by in a blur. He spends his day in a windowless room at the Department of Transportation in Raleigh, circling node after node in the Pavement Management division. Even the idea of dragging his map next to Kimberly Ingle's has no appeal, so he sloughs through his own section of road, circling and numbering, circling and numbering, until the clock strikes five and he grabs his keys and makes his way out to his car.

     He can usually burn home in less than half an hour, but there’s a wreck on the 401 and thirty minutes turns into sixty. He taps his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, irritated at the boring hours spent in an office tower, irritated at being stuck in a tin can on hot concrete, irritated that Link hadn’t picked up the phone once. He’d only called four times.

     His stomach is growling by the time he rolls in the front door of his house. His father is seated at the table hidden behind a propped up newspaper, and his mother is scooping mashed potatoes and collard greens onto a set of plates.  
     “Hey, honey,” Diane says, reaching into the cupboard for another plate. “Long day?” she adds, seeing her son’s dark under-eye circles; his furrowed brow.  
     “You wouldn’t believe, Ma,” Rhett replies, making a beeline for the phone. He pounds Link’s number into the dial pad, avoiding a scolding glance from his father as his mother sets their plates down and settles in beside him. “One sec,” Rhett says, holding out his index finger. “I just gotta— _Link!_ ” The ghost in his chest leaps when he hears Link’s voice over the receiver. “Link! Why— why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”  
     “ _Sorry, man,_ ” Link says, his voice small and tinny from nearly two hundred miles away. “ _I guess I had other things on my mind._ ” Rhett can practically hear Link’s face flushing and he feels his own do the same. He glances over to the table and sees the impatient look on his father’s face and hears a gentle tut-tut from his mother.  
     “Alright, yeah, I get it,” he says. “I can’t really— I can’t really _talk_ now, but can you call me later? Tonight?”  
     “ _Yeah,_ ” Link says. “ _Of course._ ”  
     “Okay, great. Don’t forget. Please.”  
     “ _I won’t._ ”  
     “Alright, okay. Talk to you later.”  
     “ _Yeah, later._ ”  
     “Okay, bye.”  
     “ _Bye, Rhett._ ”  
     “Bye.”

     When he sets down the receiver he lets out a sigh of relief; two full days of stress and sleep deprivation suddenly not feeling quite so bad. He can’t hide the plumpness of the apples in his cheeks all throughout dinner, and despite a couple of sideways glances between his parents, neither of them mention it.

     He’s plucking away at his guitar later that evening when the phone finally rings, trying to work out the bridge for a Wax Paper Dogz song that’s been giving him a headache for weeks. The phone’s electronic warble echoes through the hallways and Rhett slams his hand down across the frets before shoving his guitar onto the bed, scrambling to pull his boxers up his hips as he catapults himself down the hall.  
     “I’ll get it!” he yells out, bare feet thudding down the hardwood stairs. He skids as he makes the turn into the living room, seeing his parents sitting unmoving next to one another on the couch watching the news.

     “Hello?” he breathes into the receiver.  
     “ _Hey._ ” It’s Link.  
     “Hey.” Rhett pulls the long, coiled phone cord as taut as it’ll go, around the corner and into the hall; just far enough so that he can sit on the third step of the stairs up to his room. “How are you?” Link hums a little.  
     “ _You know. Workin’ with dad. Always kinda frustrating. Lots of grunting,_ ” he says with a little laugh. “ _But we’re doing some real intricate tile work at this awesome place up in the mountains, it's like someone’s vacation home or something. The whole place is done with reclaimed wood… I think you’d really like it there._ ” There’s an air of wistfulness in Link’s voice that goes straight to Rhett’s gut.  
     “Sounds awesome,” Rhett says, leaning his temple against the wall, letting his eyes drift closed. He can picture Link’s lips forming around the words, his tongue peeking through his teeth. “When— when’re you comin’ home?” he asks.  
     “ _Hmm, I’m not too sure. Whenever the job’s done, I guess. Maybe Friday?_ ” Rhett’s heart plummets into the depths of his abdomen.  
     “Friday?!”  
     “ _Yeah. I know. I’m sorry._ ”  
     “I really wanna see you, man,” Rhett says, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them. “I can’t stop thinking about… the other night.”  
     “ _I know. Me too._ ”  
     “Why’d you do it?” Rhett chews his lip as Link lets out a groan.  
     “ _I dunno, man,_ ” Link says after a moment of contemplation. “ _I just— you just— you looked so upset, and… I dunno, dude._ ” He lets out an uncomfortable laugh. “ _I been livin’ with you for a year, man. Makes you look at people in a different way._ ” Rhett’s fingertips dust over his bottom lip.  
     “A year?”  
     “ _I guess so,_ ” Link says. Rhett lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.  
     “Woah.”  
     “ _Mmhm,_ ” Link mumbles with a little laugh. “ _Anyway, I should probably go. Me ’n dad are gonna rent a movie or something._ ”  
     “Poltergeist is good,” Rhett suggests with a smile.  
     “ _Yeah right,_ ” Link says with a revolted groan and a laugh. “ _As if._ ”  
     “Jumanji? That one came out on video a couple weeks ago,” Rhett amends. “I heard it’s really good.”  
     “ _Hmm, yeah, maybe. Robin Williams, right?_ ”  
     “Yeah, that’s the one. Anyway. Friday?” Rhett asks.  
     “ _Yeah, Friday._ ”  
     “Come and pick me up once you’re home?”  
     “ _I will, yeah._ ”  
     “Alright,” Rhett sighs. “See you Friday.”  
     “ _See you Friday,_ ” Link echoes. “ _Can’t wait._ ” Rhett can hear the smile on his lips and he can’t help the smile that dances in the corners of his eyes.  
     “Can’t wait.”  
     “ _See ya, Rhett._ ”  
     “See you soon,” he mends, not wanting to hang up the phone just yet. Link laughs.  
     “ _Alright, man. Bye._ ”  
     “Bye, Link.”

     Rhett keeps his head on tight until the weekend, checking each day off his calendar as they pass. The hours tick by slowly, like he’s waiting for something that’ll never arrive. He circles nodes, numbers them, commutes back and forth from Raleigh. At night he still can’t seem to catch a wink, but instead of the restless tossing and turning of nerves and tension, the buzz of anticipation keeps him up; the memory of the texture of Link’s tongue and the ghost of his wiry body pressed up against his own.

     By Friday morning, Rhett is chipper. He gives his mother a kiss on the cheek on the way out the door and sings along loudly with the radio on his way to work. He smiles at everyone in the office and, on a whim, decides to file the two-lane road from Buies Creek up to Dunne as ‘very high priority’ for an ‘immediate lane upgrade’. By some stroke of luck, his supervisor hands him a set of keys to the DoT’s fleet of Crown Victorias and he spends the afternoon doing laps around The Beltline with his hand hanging out the window and surfing through the muggy May air.

     He’s home before he knows it. He eats dinner with his parents and spends the evening alternating between sipping Mello Yello on his front step and shooting hoops. He can tell he’s out of practice from the way his calves and triceps burn and how many free-throws he misses, but he works up a little bit of a sweat and he still enjoys himself.

     The sky is growing dark by the time he sees a set of headlights turn onto his dead end street. He squints into the high beams and his heart skips a beat when he makes out the shape of Link’s 1987 Nissan pickup gliding toward him.

     He rolls his basketball onto the grass and reaches for the passenger door handle as Link pulls to a stop.  
     “Hey,” Link says with a lopsided smile. His bleached blond hair is disheveled and he’s got grout and mortar smeared onto his baggy jeans and caked under his fingernails.  
     “Hey,” Rhett parrots, instantly more breathless than a thousand layups could ever make him. He slides into his seat and the silence that follows is thick like a blanket. All the waiting— anticipation leading up to this moment— and suddenly Rhett’s got nothing to say. Link looks different, painted in the purple and orange glow of dusk, and Rhett realizes he’s never looked at him quite like this before. How is it even possible, in their thirteen years, that he’s never quite noticed how sharp the angle of his jaw is, or how plump and rosy his lips are? How hadn’t he noticed, after living in the same dorm room for an entire year, how wide his shoulders are, or how his dark lashes fan out and frame his bright, blue eyes just right? Rhett clears his throat and gives his head a quick shake. “So, uh, where we going?”  
     “Haven’t thought that far ahead,” Link says, backing into a three point turn and peeling off toward the highway.

     It should be easy, shooting the breeze with his best friend, but it isn’t. His mouth catches around every word his brain tries to form, but it’s just as well, because he can’t quite figure out the right thing to say, anyway. How on God’s green earth can he just casually bring up the fact that they made out, point blank, less than a week ago? That he wouldn’t mind doing it again? It’s weird, isn’t it? It must be wrong and disgusting, surely. But it sure didn’t feel that way. It only felt _good_ and _right_ and so different from Stephanie Harwood, or Amber, or Leslie, or any other girl he’d ever kissed.

     “Listen, Rhett,” Link starts, his brows furrowed and his lips pinched tight. “I shouldn’t’ve— I never shoulda— I shouldn’t have done that the other night.” It feels like a punch right in the pit of Rhett’s stomach.  
     “What— why?” he croaks. “No, Link”—  
     “I shouldn’t have put that on you,” he says, cutting him off. His knuckles go white as he squeezes the steering wheel. “That’s my shit to deal with, not yours. It’s not your fucking problem.”

     Link pulls onto a dirt road that they both know is a dead-end, terminating on the banks of the Cape Fear River. Link puts his truck in park and stares down at his hands twisting in his lap.  
     “Link,” Rhett says, his voice low and scratchy. He reaches out a hand to Link’s shoulder, and he recoils, but Rhett pushes on. “Link.” He trails his hand down Link’s arm, wrestling his hand out from between his knees and interlocks their fingers. “Link, look at me.” When he does, his eyes are rimmed in red and Rhett can see tears of frustration building. He tries to think of something comforting to say, something to pull Link back, something to reassure him. When he comes up empty handed, he leans in and kisses him.

     It’s different, without the slippery charm of alcohol. It’s more intense, and it’s real, and he’s very aware of how easily Link’s lips part beneath his own. Link’s hands clasp behind Rhett’s head and he’s pulling him close, fingertips digging into his scalp. Rhett slides closer to Link on the nylon upholstery, one hand coming to rest on his thigh and the other gently cradling the back of his neck. Link clings to him like a drowning man— like he’s desperate to find something to hold onto, and he kisses like an architect— like every flick of his tongue and every nibble of his teeth is perfectly calculated and elegant.

     “I’m sorry, Rhett,” Link whispers between heated gasps. “God, I’m so sorry.” Rhett can’t pull himself away, so he sucks Link’s fat bottom lip into his mouth.  
     “No, stop it. Why— Why’re you sorry?” He can’t find anything to be sorry about when Link’s goatee burns as it rubs against his chin or when Link’s hands run down his shoulders and up his chest.  
     “I don’t wanna drag you down with me,” he says, and Rhett finally pulls back a few inches. Link’s pupils are blown wide and his lips are red and wet.  
     “Drag me,” Rhett rasps before pressing his lips onto the throbbing artery on the side of his neck. “Drag me down with you.” Link lets out a sound that’s something like a mix between a moan and a sob, and he pulls Rhett’s lips up against his own.

     Something shifts then, the apprehension ebbs away and Rhett can feel Link sliding back onto the bench seat, the gentle pressure of his hands along his back pulling Rhett down with him. He eases an elbow between Link’s shoulder and the backrest, propping himself up as his chest comes to rest on top of Link’s, careful not to crush him. Rhett’s blood is alive, it’s on fire in his veins and he can feel the thump-thump-thumping of Link’s heart in time with his own. They kiss late into the night, with just the sounds of owls and the rushing river keeping their heavy breaths company.

     They’re eventually interrupted by a small herd of deer filing around Link’s car. Rhett spots them first with a small jolt, and presses a finger to Link’s lips to silence him. They sit still as stone and watch, pressed tight against one another, Rhett’s arm snug around Link’s shoulders and Link’s fingers gently pressing invisible patterns up and down the length of Rhett’s forearm. There’s spotted baby fawns weaving in and out of the group, nibbling shoots and leaves as they pass toward the muddy riverbanks.

     When the last deer disappears into the trees, Link lets out a shuddering yawn. “I guess it’s late, huh?” he asks. A little smile plays on the edges of his kiss-plumped lips.  
     “Mmhmm,” Rhett hums, nuzzling into the bare strip of skin below Link’s ear.  
     “Think we should go home?” Rhett lets out a groan but presses a kiss into Link’s temple.  
     “I guess so.”  
     “You doing anything tomorrow?” Link asks, fingers running a feather-light trail back and forth from the base of Rhett’s head down to the band of his jeans.  
     “Nothin’,” Rhett says.  
     “Wanna hang out?”  
     “Yeah, ‘course.”

     Rhett has to fight to keep his hands and lips to himself as Link drives him home. When they pull up in front of his house on Lynch Avenue, he gives up and pulls Link in again and kisses him wet and deep. Link lets him in, lets him explore the cavern of his mouth, pointed tongue gently probing and swirling against his own.  
     “Call me in the morning?” Link asks, breathless all over again.  
     “Yeah. Yeah, I will,” Rhett says between gentle presses of their mouths.

     Rhett waves at Link as he walks backwards towards his house, not wanting to see him go. When Link’s truck eventually disappears around the bend in the road, Rhett lets out a satisfied sigh, head tilted toward the Heavens. The ghost in his chest floats three inches above the concrete path toward his house, never feeling so relieved and content and fulfilled, all rolled into one.


	3. Sons & Daughters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is inspired by the song [Dear Sons and Daughters of Hungry Ghosts](https://youtu.be/rkgqrxkEbW4?list=PLHHo8v802YjMcmBPUr_SpAH4jw0tRsDX0) by Wolf Parade and also by the following image prompt for the [Rhink Summer Ficathon 2k17](https://rhinkficathons.tumblr.com)!
> 
>   
> [[img](https://coolofthewild.com/camping/campfire-songs)]

     In less than a couple days, they’ve made out in just about every conceivable private place in Buies Creek; in the pasture, in the river, in abandoned houses and barns, in Rhett’s car, _on_ Rhett’s car… Everywhere. They don’t _talk_ much, opting to let their bodies speak for them instead. Rhett’s never felt better, like he could run a marathon and then climb a mountain and probably win an NBA championship all in one afternoon. He feels strengthened and whole with Link’s ghost in his pocket, even if Link himself isn’t necessarily around at every waking moment.

     There’s a party one night, in the field behind Ben and Will Thomas’ parents place. Ben promises beer and a bonfire and Rhett happily agrees to go.

     He and Link show up just after sundown, following smoke signals and the sounds of jeering laughter. They pop open the cooler and take a beer each, sitting cross-legged and knee to knee in the ring of friends. The circle grows and so does the pile of empties. A joint or two go around the circle, puffs of white smoke joining the grey, streaming straight up into the clear, star-speckled sky. Stephanie Harwood shows up with a gaggle of girls from NC State that Rhett remembers seeing around campus a few times. She meets his eye with an embarrassed flush and spends the majority of her evening definitely _not_ looking anywhere near Rhett, which serves him just fine. He sips his beer, relaxed and care-free, vaguely aware that he’ll be hungover at work tomorrow. But it’s summer, it’s hot, Link’s here, and he just can’t bring himself to care all that much.

     Link looks great in the firelight. When he laughs, his whole face lights up and deep shadows are cast below his jaw, his adam’s apple. His teeth are sharp and white and his eyes, constant blue, sparkle with the crackling flame. Rhett’s fingers graze Link’s knee as he gestures when he talks, he uses his shoulder to stabilize himself when he gets up to get another round of beers. He sees something in Link’s eyes, wide and mischievous. Once he’s downed his drink, Link gets up with a dramatic stretch.  
     “I gotta take a leak,” he announces. His eyes bore holes right into Rhett like an invitation, and that wicked glint flashes again, louder than ever. Rhett scrambles to his feet.  
     “Yeah, uh,” he stutters. “I gotta pee too.” No one seems to pay them a second glance, even though Rhett feels a bit like a preteen girl, following his friend to the restroom.

     They cross the field, elbows brushing, until they reach the line of trees, pine and oak. Link dips in between the trunks, sinking into the forest and further and further from the orange glow of the bonfire. Rhett follows closely, ducking low-hanging branches and stepping carefully over fallen logs. Link eventually slows to a stop, just far enough from the party that slivers of warm light manage to weave through the thicket, but the sound of shouting and laughter is nearly muffled.

     “I thought you had to pee,” Rhett says with a smile, sauntering closer to Link.  
     “I don’t,” Link replies. “Do you?”  
     “No.”

     Link wraps his arms around Rhett’s neck and he brings his lips down against his own. A chill runs down Rhett’s spine when he licks into Link’s mouth, hot and wet and alluring. Link’s hungry, and Rhett can taste it, his fingers piercing as they dig into his shoulders, his sides, his hips. The woods are on fire around them, smoking and crackling and burning down to white-hot embers. Rhett lets out a moan when he feels the stiffness in Link’s jeans press up against his thigh, and Link backs him into a tree, grinding his groin against him, breath gusting hot and humid against the soft flesh of his neck. Link’s fingers fiddle with the button on Rhett’s jeans, forcing a deep groan from Rhett’s chest.  
     “Let me do something for you,” Link husks as he pops the button open. Rhett can’t bring himself to speak, but he presses a kiss into the top of Link’s hair as he lays a path of kisses down Rhett’s neck, on the base of his throat, before sinking onto his knees on the mossy ground.

     Rhett bites his lip hard as he looks down. Link cups him through his jeans with one hand while the other pulls at his zipper before inching his boxers down and wrapping his hand around his cock as it springs free, fully erect and rigid. Link drags his lips along Rhett’s length with a shaky breath, eyes just barely resting closed. He pushes his fingers through Link’s hair, working them from his hairline to the base of his skull. Link’s eyes snap open and he presses a deliberate, wet kiss onto the tip of his cock, pulling a strangled groan out of Rhett. Link takes it easy, a bit unconfident and inexperienced to be sure, but Rhett can’t help the string of profanities that slip through his lips as Link takes him further and further in with each bob of his head. Rhett’s fingers snake through Link’s hair, not pushing or tugging, but lightly scratching at his scalp with his fingernails, softly urging him on.

     “God, Link,” Rhett manages, trying to keep his grip on reality while watching his shaft slide in and out from between Link’s pursed, slippery lips. Link lets out a quiet moan and picks up the pace, laving his tongue on the underside of Rhett’s cock, bobbing his head, gently kneading his balls in the palm of his hand. “Oh God, Link,” he sputters. “God, you’re incredible— ahh, oh _shit._ ” Rhett feels all the muscles in his abdomen tighten and he throws his head back against the tree, eyes closed in a fit of rapture. The wet sounds of Link’s mouth, his hand sliding up and down his shaft where his lips can’t quite reach, it’s nearly enough to send Rhett flying into the inferno. Link lets out another moan, deep and throaty, and the vibrations travel right into Rhett’s core, bringing him right to the edge. A twig snaps in the forest.

     “What the fuck?!”

     Rhett’s eyes shoot open, his hands still buried in Link’s hair, and he sees Stephanie Harwood standing in front of him, backlit by the slashes of golden light from the bonfire. Her blonde hair looks red and dangerous, and her pretty face is twisted and distorted; full of contempt and disgust. Link’s lips slide off of Rhett’s cock with a wet sound and a gasp.

     “What in the _fuck_ is this?!” Stephanie asks again, her voice crackling in her throat. “What the _fuck,_ Rhett?!”  
     “ _Shit,_ ” Rhett mumbles under his breath, stuffing himself back in his pants.  
     “Jesus _Christ,_ Rhett. No fucking _wonder,_ ” Stephanie spits. She laughs loudly then spins on her heel, taking off at top speed back toward the party.

     “ _Fuck,_ ” Link says, brushing the dirt from his knees and wiping away the saliva from his chin with his forearm. “What do we do?” he asks.  
     “I dunno, Link,” Rhett says. “We need a new plan.”  
     “A _new_ plan? We don’t have _any_ plan, dude.”  
     “ _Fuck._ "

     They take off and follow her trail, hoping to cut her off before she makes it back to the party. But they’re too late. Her voice travels over the field.  
     “…So McLaughlin’s out there getting _sucked off_ by fucking _Neal,_ ” Stephanie says, and she’s loud, she’s just this side of shouting, announcing it to the entire group, and her words are laced with vitriol and poison. “No _wonder_ he didn’t wanna get with _me,_ he’s a fucking _faggot._ ”

     The blood drains from Rhett’s face as he comes into view of the group of people. There’s two dozen pairs of eyes staring them down, some unsure, some confused, some repulsed.

     “Look at the two of ‘em,” Steph proclaims, her arm ushering them in like a demented Vanna White. “A couple of flaming fucking fags!” She laughs then, a cackle like a villain out of a movie.  
     “Steph…” Ben starts, his tone laced with warning. “Steph, chill out, alright?”  
     “I _saw them!_ ” she shrieks. “I saw him on knees with his dick in his fucking mouth, okay?!” Link’s face goes white as snow and he looks vaguely like he might vomit.  
     “Shut _up,_ Steph,” Rhett warns, his voice low and hands balled into tight fists, blind rage filling him to the brim. His jaw clenches and his arteries pump furiously in his neck, veins throbbing loudly at his temples. He sees red.  
     “I fucking _saw_ you!”

     Rhett raises his fist and the ghost in his chest just wants to _destroy_ her— pummel her— beat her into the fucking ground, until he feels Link’s hand curl around his bicep, carefully pulling his arm down to his side.  
     “It’s not worth it, Rhett,” Link says, and Rhett can see the fear and distress etched into the lines of his face. “It’s not worth it,” he repeats. “Let’s just get out of here. Please.”  
     “Fuck you,” Rhett spits as he lets himself be lead away from the group by the wrist. “Fuck you, Steph.”  
     “ _Rhett,_ ” Link warns. “Leave it.”  
     “Listen to your _boyfriend,_ McLaughlin!” Steph shouts after them with another wicked laugh.

     They take off toward the road, decidedly not looking back, not once, even though the hushed tones of gossip swell behind them.


	4. I'll Believe in Anything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by the prompt **"Trust me. Don't you trust me?"** for the [Rhink Summer Ficathon 2k17](https://rhinkficathons.tumblr.com), and also the song [I'll Believe in Anything](https://youtu.be/7G1eLTV89dM?list=PLHHo8v802YjMcmBPUr_SpAH4jw0tRsDX0) by Wolf Parade. If you haven't listened to any of these yet, this is the one I'd suggest beyond all others. It gives me chills every time.
> 
>   
>  [[img](http://gotbooks.miracosta.edu/geology/regions/blue_ridge.html)]

     They walk until they’re just out of sight from the bonfire, slow and purposeful, and then they run.

     They run until they can’t hear the raised voices of alarm behind them; until they can barely smell the smoke. They’re both out of breath by the time they stop, right at the shady crossroads to Link’s house. Link grabs Rhett’s wrist and tugs, his eyes pleading before his lips do.  
     “Stay at my place tonight,” he finally says, his fingertips pressing tiny bruises into Rhett’s forearm. “Please. Mom’s working an overnight… I don’t wanna be alone. Please.” Every fiber in Rhett’s body wants to go with him, but obligation makes him hesitate.  
     “I— I gotta work in the morning,” he says, knowing full-well that they’ve both had too much to drink and that the Dynasty is on the other side of Buies Creek.  
     “I’ll drive you,” Link counters quickly. “I’ll drive you and I’ll pick you up. Please, just come with me.” It’s an offer Rhett can’t refuse. He’ll call his mom first thing in the morning. He hates it when she worries.  
     “Okay, yeah,” he says, peeling Link’s hand off his wrist and weaving his fingers in between his own instead. “Let’s go.”

     There’s a moment of doubt when they reach Link’s room, where Rhett isn’t sure if he should pull the air mattress out from the closet and set himself up on the floor like he’s done for the past ten years, but Link fluffs a pillow for him on the bed and he figures that it’s as good an invitation as any.

     He watches with bated breath as Link steps out of his jeans and tosses his shirt into the hamper at the base of his bed. Rhett follows suit, stripping down to his socks and boxers. Link slides his arms around Rhett's middle and squeezes hard, resting his cheek against his chest, and Rhett surrounds him in a hug and buries his nose in Link’s hair, woodsmoke and vanilla. He can feel Link’s heart pounding beneath his skin and up against his chest, and he hears him sniffle.  
     “Why’d she have to do that?” he asks quietly. Rhett lets out a pained groan and presses a kiss into Link’s temple.  
     “I dunno, Link,” Rhett says, weaving his long fingers through his bleached hair and holding him close. “God, I don’t know.”  
     “How— how’re we supposed to show our faces around here now? Now that everybody knows?” Link asks with a stutter. Rhett can feel a spot of wetness forming on his chest. He gently pulls Link’s head back and takes a long look into Link’s eyes, blue and bright, even in his lowest moments of fear and dread. Blue like the most peaceful morning sky, and bright like most dazzling afternoon sunshine, even when they’re clouded over by the swell of tears, threatening to spill over the edge. Rhett feels his heart overflowing with an innate desire to keep every part of Link protected and safe; his blood, his bones, his voice, and his ghost. He’d take any hit for Link, do anything to take the salt from his eyes. He sniffs hard then, too, his eyebrows knit together and he clears his throat.

     “We’ll be okay,” he says, trying to convince even himself. “We’ll be brave. We can do it.” He kisses him then, soft and careful. “And in the fall we’ll be back in school, and we’ll get our own apartment, and we’ll just be two faces in a sea of twenty thousand.” He kisses the tip of Link’s nose and each eyelid. “And when we’re finished school, we’ll get out of here. I’ll take you somewhere no one knows you,” he says pressing kisses into Link’s temples and into the soft patches of flesh beneath his ears. “I’ll take you to California, where nobody gives a damn either way.” The tears fall in silent streams down Link’s cheeks.

     Link sets his alarm and crawls into his bed, pressing himself up against the wall in his twin-sized mattress. Rhett follows suit, slipping between the sheets and curling himself into Link. Their knees interlock, arms wrapped around one another with Link’s head carefully cradled against Rhett’s shoulder. It’s quiet, but it’s comfortable, and it just feels _good_. Too good to give up, not for a hundred stares or a thousand unkind words.

     “Do you believe it?” Link whispers.  
     “I’ll believe in anything,” Rhett says. “If you’ll believe in anything.” He can feel Link smiling into the crook of his neck.  
     “I believe it too, Rhett.”

     Eight fifteen comes early. Rhett calls his mom, gets chastised for not coming home the night before, and apologizes sincerely. He takes the fastest shower of his life and they eat peanut butter toast for breakfast. Link loans Rhett a flannel so he doesn’t spend the entire day smelling like a campfire. It’s a bit short in the arms, but Rhett cuffs them at the elbow so it doesn’t really matter. He wonders briefly why Link doesn’t just drive him to his car, but by then they’re already on the freeway and Link seems to already have his mind made up, so he doesn’t mention it.

     They pull into the parking lot of the Department of Transportation and Rhett slides next to Link, his hand running up his thigh.  
     “Thanks for the ride,” he purrs and leans in for a kiss, sliding his tongue between Link’s lips easily. There’s something freeing about being able to kiss him in public in broad daylight. He realizes quickly that he doesn’t care about the people at the DoT; he doesn’t care about his bosses or his supervisor or his coworkers. He cares about Link. “Comin’ to get me after?” Link chases after his lips, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  
     “Yeah. Five?” he asks, one hand coming to rest on the back of Rhett’s neck, his thumb rubbing tiny circles into the side of his throat.  
     “Five,” Rhett confirms, and leans in to give Link another wet kiss before sliding out of the truck. “See you then.”  
     “See ya, Rhett,” Link calls out after him, watching him intently through the passenger window.

     It’s the longest day at the DoT yet. He circles nodes; numbers them. The harsh fluorescent lights give him a headache and he spends more time yawning at the water cooler than he does at his desk. He circles nodes; numbers them. Rhett looks on with envy as he sees his supervisor close her office door and flick off the light, knowing full well that she’s curled up for a nap under her desk. He circles nodes; numbers them. By quarter to five, he can’t take it any more. He clocks out early and waits for Link on a bench in the parking lot, soaking up the summer sun.

     Link pulls up at five on the dot. The back of his pickup is cluttered, stuffed full with miscellany that Rhett only half-recognizes, but he’s certain none of it was there when he got dropped off that morning.

     “What’s all this?” Rhett asks with a backwards gesture when he slides into the passenger seat. Link’s eyes light up a thousand watts as he leans in to capture Rhett’s lips in his own.  
     “Trust me. Don’t you trust me?” he asks, with an impish smile. Rhett narrows his eyes and laughs.  
     “Yeah,” he says, more confused than anything. “Yeah, I do.”

     Link puts the pedal to the metal and they peel off toward the highway. The windows are down and the wind rushes into the vehicle. It’s not the first time he’s let Link drive him into the unknown, and he’s sure it won’t be the last, so he throws a lazy arm over Link’s shoulder and relaxes into his seat, happy and content.

     Rhett watches the mile markers fly past his window. Durham. Burlington. Greensboro. Winston-Salem. He watches the plateau of the Piedmont slowly melt into the rolling hills of the Appalachians, and those hills creep up, up, up, into the pointed peaks of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

     They stop to refuel at a roadside gas station just outside of Boone. Link pulls a quarter out of his cupholder and tosses it at Rhett.  
     “Call your mom,” he says. “You won’t be home until Sunday night.” Rhett scrambles to get out of his seat and meet Link on the driver’s side.  
     “Where are we _going?_ ” he finally asks as Link tries to conceal a grin. Rhett watches as Link digs his hand into his pocket and pulls out a keyring with a single, silver key.  
     “That house? Where dad and I did the tiling a few weeks back? Well, it’ll be vacant until July,” Link says, waggling the key in mid-air. “I had a copy made,” he says with a proud smile. “I’ll leave it on the table when we leave. But this place is _perfect,_ Rhett. You’re gonna love it.” Rhett can feel his jaw dragging along the floor, but he snaps it shut and pulls Link in for a one-armed hug.  
     “You’re nuts, you know that?” he asks, his eyes crinkling at the corners.  
     “I thought— I thought I’d take us somewhere nobody knows us,” Link says, suddenly serious, tucking the key back into his pocket. Rhett lets out a low breath and pulls him in tighter.

     They drive right through Boone and up a curving mountain road, taking a sharp turn onto a gravel trail that guides them along the valley between two Appalachian giants.  
     “We must be in Tennessee by now,” Rhett remarks, craning his neck out the window to look up at the pointed summits.  
     “‘Bout ten minutes from the state line,” Link shrugs.  
     “We’re pretty far from home, buddyroll,” Rhett sighs.  
     “Exactly.”

     Rhett lets out a soft gasp when he sees the house begin to materialize through the tree-line, completely obscured by the road. Two stories, treated wood, enormous windows. _Huge._  
Link smiles as he pulls into the carport and puts his truck in park.  
     “We’re here,” he says quietly.  
     “ _Wow._ ”

__

     Link hauls a duffle bag out of the bed of the truck and motions at Rhett to grab the cooler. Link leans sideways while digging deep in his pocket for the key with the strap of the bag weighing heavy on his shoulder. The door unlocks and swings open easily, welcoming them to their temporary home.

     Rhett stands starstruck for a few moments as he takes it all in. The sixteen-foot ceilings dwarf even him, and the floor-to-ceiling windows pull the bright daylight in, reflecting off the intricately woven, white tile flooring. He sets the cooler down at his feet and lets his hand run over the sanded wooden boards of the walls, letting his fingers slide over the grain like braille.  
     “ _Link,_ ” Rhett breathes. “This is _amazing._ ”  
     “You like it?” Link asks, his smile stretched from ear to ear.  
     “I can’t— how did you— what?” Rhett finds himself at a loss for words, but not for lack of trying. He wraps his arms around Link with a belly laugh and spins the both of them in a circle, catching Link a little bit off balance in an awkward tango. When he slows to a stop, he sees Link’s chin resting on his chest and those eyes, blue and bright and full of sunshine, staring up at him. “I— I love you, Link,” Rhett says, his ghost rapidly expanding inside of him; ballooning up to colossal proportions, threatening to escape from every pore and orifice. Link takes a deep breath and his cheeks flush a rosy pink. “I didn’t— I didn’t even know I wanted this until a couple weeks ago. I didn’t even know I _could _have this,” Rhett says quickly. “But this— _this_ — this what I’ve been missing.”__

____

__

     Link pushes himself up onto his tiptoes and kisses him, soft and purposeful. Rhett leans into it, fingers fanning out over the subtle ripples of Link’s ribcage, his tongue chasing Link’s around his mouth, gently nipping at his lower lip.

     Rhett’s known fascination. He’s known obsession. He’s fawned over girls from near and far and he’s _liked_ a lot of them. He’s liked the way their hips moved in miniskirts and the way their sweaters stretch too-tight across their chests. He’s known stimulating conversation and mutual understanding and respect. But he’s never known _love_ , not like this, and he’s never been so certain that this is it. It feels huge inside of him, overwhelming and terrifying. It’s worth the hype. Big time.

     Link’s hands sneak their way under the hem of Rhett’s flannel and smooth over his stomach, his hips, his back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He lets out a quiet groan into Link’s mouth, waves of chills running down his spine. He craves it, Link’s touch, and he wants _more._ He wants to touch and be touched; to love and be loved.

     The room disappears around them and he follows Link’s lead as he feels himself being pushed backward toward the sectional couch, his knees buckling when they hit the cushions. Link climbs on top of him, his knees straddling Rhett’s own and his fingertips raking over Rhett’s buzz, his neck, his chest. Link ignores the buttons and yanks the flannel up and over Rhett’s head, catching briefly at his elbows where he’d cuffed them. Link’s lips press against Rhett’s; drag over his jawline; suck sweetly at his ear lobe.  
     “I love you too,” Link whispers breathlessly, hot breath wafting across the wet trails he’d left behind. Rhett’s ghost pulses with energy, buzzing in his veins from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head. He wraps his big hands around the back of Link’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss, open-mouthed and deep and wet and he’s _hungry._ And Link’s hungry too; he can taste it on his tongue.

     Rhett’s hands slide down Link’s back, down the valley of his spine, and his fingers spread wide when they smooth over Link’s rounded ass cheeks. Link lets out a quiet moan and when Rhett’s fingertips dig into him, Link’s hips grind down against his own as if on instinct. The simple motion forces every ounce of breath out of Rhett and he grips Link’s hips from under his shirt and pulls him down against him again and again, heavy panting breaths ricocheting around the enormous room.

     Link rips off his t-shirt, barely taking a moment to release Rhett’s lips from his own. Rhett can feel the stiffness in Link’s jeans rubbing against his and he feels needy and reckless. He pops the button of Link’s pants open and Link responds with a shaky breath.  
     “God, yeah,” he mutters, a desperate groan quaking through him as Rhett palms him through his boxers. Link twists and manages to kick off his jeans, underwear following suit quickly. Link feels thick and heavy in his hand; hot and pulsating; and the soft moans of encouragement slipping through his lips make Rhett press on. He spits into his open palm and slicks Link’s cock up and down, eyes trained on Link’s quivering lower lip and heavy eyelids. He looks beautiful like this, hair plastered to his temples; wrecked and wanton. Link lets Rhett work him, shifting his hips backwards just enough so that he can pry open Rhett’s jeans as well, pushing them down so that they pool at his ankles.

     Link swats Rhett’s hands away then, grabbing him by the wrists and setting Rhett’s hands back onto the sharp blades of his hips. His cock slides up next to Rhett’s and both of his hands come down to surround them both, the firm pressure going straight into Rhett’s abdomen and he can’t help but rock his hips upward. “ _Fuck,_ ” Link moans, his forehead coming down to press against Rhett’s. His hands slide up and down around their cocks, shaky but determined, and Rhett’s thumbs dig into Link’s hips and pull him down against him, harder and more urgent as Link pumps faster and more furiously.

     It’s too much, it’s too intense and Rhett knows he can’t last. He grinds Link’s ass against him hard, one last time, and the quiet, slurred mewls of warning slip from between his lips. He finishes hard, painting ropes of come down Link’s chest and over his own. Link gasps when he sees it, and squeezes down hard, wrists working double time to flick over the nerve at the head, and soon after, he gushes all over his own hands and Rhett’s stomach.

     Rhett’s mind goes blank, body melting into the sectional as Link’s body collapses limply on top of him. He wraps his arms around Link’s shoulders, feeling his muscles clench and twitch, and his heart hammering through his chest. He’s warm, draped across him like this, but he’s close— so close that Rhett can feel Link’s ghost intertwining with his own. Rhett gets the feeling that this is the way that they should’ve been all along.


	5. I Am My Father's Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this chapter was inspired by [You Are a Runner and I Am My Father's Son](https://youtu.be/OevWcth2urM?list=PLHHo8v802YjMcmBPUr_SpAH4jw0tRsDX0) by Wolf Parade. It was also inspired in part by the prompt **A surprise waiting at home** for the [Rhink Summer Ficathon 2k17](https://rhinkficathons.tumblr.com)! Sorry for the delay with this one folks!
> 
>   
>  [[img](http://www.today.com/home/scientists-keep-mites-away-leave-your-bed-unmade-every-day-t43496)]

     Rhett wakes up the next morning in a tangle of white linens in the master suite, with Link wrapped around him in every conceivable way. The bed is nearly twice as big as Link’s twin, but even with room to spare they’re no further apart than they were the night before. Link’s face is adhered to Rhett’s chest with a faint layer of sweat, and his mouth hangs open just slightly; a tiny snore sneaks out from between his lips. Rhett can’t hold back the sleepy smile that plays on the corners of his mouth as he traces a feather-light fingertip over the sharp edge of Link’s jaw; his lower lip; the tip of his nose. Link cracks one eye open with a soft grunt.  
     “Mornin’,” Rhett says quietly. Link throws an arm over his face.  
     “Your breath stinks.”

     Rhett digs his fingers into the soft flesh of Link’s side and the room fills with shrieks and giggles as they wrestle, Link digging his knobby knees into Rhett’s thighs and Rhett jabbing his pointy elbows into Link’s side. Rhett manages to get both of Link’s wrists wrapped up in one of his hands and pins them over his head and wrenches a knee over Link’s thighs. He leans in to kiss him with just a hint of tongue and mercilessly pinches at the sensitive skin pulled taut over Link’s ribs. Link squirms and squeals and snaps his teeth at whatever parts of Rhett he can get close to. Rhett keeps his elbows away from Link’s gnashing mouth and makes a calculated move and swoops in for another kiss, his tongue prying Link’s lips open and diving in, bold and heavy. Link puts up a meagre show of struggling against the restraints of Rhett’s hands, but he lets out a low moan and kisses Rhett back fiercely.  
     “Still stinks,” Link says with a cocked eyebrow when Rhett pulls away. Rhett laughs and releases Link’s hands, grabbing a pillow and giving the side of Link's head a solid whack. Link’s hands ball up into little fists and he pummels into Rhett’s thighs with a laugh. “No fair,” he yelps. “I don’t have any leverage!”  
     “Ow!” Rhett says, feeling the sharp bones of Link’s hands digging into his legs. “That hurts— don’t!” He takes Link’s hands underneath his and flattens them, pressing Link’s palms against his bare skin. Link looks a bit put-out at first, but then his hands begin to move up and down the long expanse of Rhett’s thighs. Rhett’s eyes widen and his breath hitches in his throat, letting his hands drop down to Link’s bare chest. Link takes a deep inhale and Rhett sees his pupils dilate and his jaw go slack as his hands resume their careful exploration from Rhett’s knees to the hem of his boxers— and down and back up again.

     Rhett gulps when Link’s fingers sink into his backside and slowly but firmly pull him down against him, feeling the stirrings of arousal beneath him. Rhett rocks down against him and sucks in a wet breath. It’s different and forbidden, the feeling of Link stiffening underneath him, but his ghost is hungry and he _wants_ it. Rhett’s big hands wrap around Link’s forearms and he uses them for purchase, pulling himself against him. Link’s cock feels fat and hard nestled between his cheeks, separated only by two layers of cotton.  
     “Oh gosh,” Rhett breathes, one hand coming up to run over his buzzcut and down his chest. His hips resume their thrusting motion, gradually pressing harder, faster. Link’s hands squeeze into Rhett’s thighs and work his way up to his hips, pulling him down against him, breath ragged and heavy.  
      “God, Rhett,” he moans. “ _Fuck._ ” Link’s hips begin to come up off the mattress and the point of contact between them is intensified, one pounding thrust after the other. Rhett can’t contain himself anymore and he slides one hand down the front of his boxers, gripping himself firmly. Link’s sharp white teeth bite into the soft flesh of his lower lip as his eyes follow the motion of Rhett’s arm, sliding up and down through the thin fabric of his underwear. Link tucks his thumbs underneath the elastic waistband of Rhett’s boxers and maneuvers them down just far enough to expose him, his eyes never quite pulling away from Rhett’s hand slicking up and down his cock. “ _Shit,_ ” Link croaks. Rhett’s breath catches in his throat as Link thrusts up against him, his eyes fixed on the slack look of pleasure on Link’s face. Rhett feels the build of orgasm accumulating low in his abdomen and his hand jerks faster.

      “Link,” he breathes. “I’m— I’m gonna…” Link grips onto his hips tighter, his own hips leaping off the bed harder.  
“Yeah, Rhett,” he murmurs. “C’mon, yeah.” The low rumbling in Link’s chest, Link’s hips coming up to meet him, and one, two pumps, and that’s all it takes. Rhett comes, hard, spilling all over Link’s stomach and chest. He’s breathless and starstruck and barely registers the haphazard thrashing of Link’s hips beneath him before Link’s eyes scrunch closed and a soft growl escapes his lips; warm wetness blooming through his boxer shorts.

     Rhett rolls off him, onto his back on the bed. He’s panting hard, eyes closed and he can hear Link struggling to catch his breath beside him. His hand searches out Link’s blindly, fingers weaving between fingers and he squeezes tight.

     They clean up later in the en suite bathroom, taking turns in the glass-walled shower.

     “Where’s my toothbrush?” Rhett asks.  
     “ _Shit,_ ” Link says from behind the steamy wall. “I forgot it. Use mine.” Rhett pauses to consider the toothbrush laid neatly on a folded face cloth on the counter and shrugs, running its blue and white bristles under a stream of water. “Dangit, Rhett!” Link howls from the shower. “Wait ’til I’m done in here, gosh!” Rhett laughs guiltily as he turns off the tap. “What are you trying to do to me, man?” Link asks accusingly. “Burn my skin off? Hold tight for a minute, would ya?”  
     “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Rhett says, raising his hands up in surrender, even though Link can’t see him through the wall of condensation. “I forgot.”  
     “Yeah, yeah,” Link mutters, water splashing down in buckets to the ground. “Whatever.”

     They set out late that morning on a hike to the peak of one of the neighboring mountaintops. The trail is faint: a barely worn path nearly grown over with wildflowers and tall grass. It’s hot and humid even on the open face of a mountainside, sweat adhering their shirts to their skins. The trees are few and far between, and do little to shield them from the mounting midday heat. Rhett lets Link blaze the trail, lagging behind a few paces. The ascent is steep and he watches the muscles in Link’s back and thighs flex as he pulls himself further and further up the mountain.

     The peak is rocky and completely barren; boulders jutting in all directions. They settle in for a light snack on top of a flat rock, grateful for the modest breeze around them. The view is beautiful, with the sloping, pointed summits surrounding them, fading into the slate blue haze of the horizon. Link takes a long sip from his water bottle and hands it off to Rhett who polishes it off; big gulps with a dribble sneaking out the corner of his mouth. They’re too hot to touch, but Rhett rests his shoulder against Link’s anyway and Link leans into the contact. Neither speak and the ghost in Rhett’s chest feels serene and completely at ease. There isn’t another soul around for miles and miles and with the adrenaline from their climb wearing off, he feels the calm tranquility of the summer breeze settle inside of him. It’s not California, but he doesn’t think there’s anywhere in North Carolina where anybody could give less of a damn that he’d fallen desperately, completely, and overwhelmingly in love with his best friend.

     Rhett’s not sure how long they spend on the mountaintop, but Link makes the first move toward their descent. He picks up the empty water bottle and hops to his feet, offering up a hand to help pull Rhett upright. Link flashes him a blinding lopsided smile before he turns on his heel and Rhett watches as he runs down the mountain trail into the high noon sun.

     The hike home takes less than half the time as their ascent up to the summit, but both boys are ravenous by the time they make it back to their mountainside retreat. Rhett knows that neither of them are particularly skilled in the culinary arts, but they put their best foot forward and into the kitchen.

     The tip of Rhett’s pink tongue pokes through his lips as he focuses on chopping a bell pepper into uniform squares. Link settles in beside him, brows furrowed in concentration as he spears the chunks of raw vegetables onto a bamboo skewer, alternating red pepper, cubes of butternut squash, button mushrooms, and red onion. Rhett’s ghost swells at the simple, domestic intimacy of the act. It seems so comfortable and natural, just _living_ his life with Link at his side. He wants to make a _home_ with Link, a place where they both can just _be_. His ghost wants to build a house right inside of him and crawl in and curl up tight; safe and warm. It doesn’t seem so impossible, a _life_ with Link. It’s tantalizing, just barely within his grasp, and he _wants_ it. Desperately.

     Link looks good manning the charcoal grill, tongs in one hand and a spatula in the other. Rhett kicks back on the patio and sips his can of beer. The evening air is smoky and pleasant as the temperature drops with the setting sun. Their steaks are juicy and the kebabs are good, even if the skewers are charred so black that they crumble at the slightest touch. “Were we supposed to soak ‘em? I think we were supposed to soak ‘em.”

     By the time they crawl into bed they’re a little bit tipsy and completely exhausted, the hours of sunshine zapping whatever stores of energy they might’ve had. The cotton sheets feel like satin underneath Rhett’s bare skin, and Link’s bare back feels like silk pressed into his chest.

     They spend the next day trying to erase the evidence of their stay in the mountainside mansion. Rhett sweeps and Link scrubs every dish, polishing silverware and glasses. They both struggle to make the king sized bed, one boy at either side, long limbs stretched as they try to tug the linens on straight. In the end, there’s a few ripples in the sheets that neither can manage to smooth out, but they both decide that it looks good enough so they leave it be.

     Rhett stands in the doorframe with the cooler at his feet and a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, watching as Link pulls the silver key out of his pocket and turns it over carefully in his fingertips before setting it onto the kitchen countertop. Rhett watches him give a silent farewell to their little oasis, so he closes his eyes briefly and does the same.

     It’s late afternoon by the time they hit the long road back to Buies Creek.

     Hours later, Link pulls into Rhett’s driveway and turns the key in the ignition, the engine sputtering to a stop. The sun is setting, splashes of purple and orange painting the summer sky. Rhett’s walks his fingertips down from Link’s shoulder, down his forearm, and tangles his hand up in Link’s.  
     “Come in,” Rhett says, softly nuzzling his nose into Link’s hair. “Just for a little while. I don’t want you to go just yet.” Link’s eyelashes flutter at the tops of his cheeks and he lets out a quiet chuckle.  
     “Alright, alright,” Link says, his thumb brushing the back of Rhett’s hand. “I’ll come. Just for a bit, though. Mom’ll be waiting.”

     They drift toward Rhett’s house and into the kitchen, brushing elbows and bumping hips all the while. Link heads straight for the snack cupboard and Rhett follows him close behind— one hand coming to rest on the jutting ridge of Link’s hip and Rhett’s chin propped gently on Link’s shoulder.  
     “Whatcha lookin’ for?” Rhett purrs, his hands sliding around Link’s hips and into the front pockets of his jeans. Link sucks in a ragged breath.  
     “Mm,” he hums. “I dunno. A snack?” He sends his hips into a slow sway, the curve of his backside brushing across Rhett’s groin. Rhett lets out a low groan and pulls Link firmly against him, his hands rubbing circles into the tops of Link’s thighs, inching ever closer to his core.  
     “Something… sweet?” Rhett asks, dropping a line of soft kisses along Link’s temple. “Or something salty?” he says with a nip to Link’s earlobe and a swipe of his tongue up the cartilage of his ear. He sees a tiny mountain range of goosebumps spring up on Link’s bare neck. Link’s head rolls back onto Rhett’s shoulder and his hands clench overtop of Rhett’s through the layer of denim of his jeans. Rhett gets the vague impression that he’s not really all that interested in snacks anymore.

     “ _Boy?_ ” A low bellow rings out from the floor above them. Link stiffens immediately and heavy, thudding footsteps start marching from above the ceiling. It’s Rhett’s dad, and he doesn’t sound happy.

     Rhett pulls his hands out of Link’s pockets and takes a step back. The footsteps sound urgent and deafening as they pound down the stairs and Rhett feels his ghost shrink and shrivel inside of him and his palms break out in a sweat. Link shoots Rhett a panicked look, his brows raised and sloping toward his hairline. 

     Jim McLaughlin isn’t a tall man, but his presence is intimidating when he emerges from around the corner.  
     “Rhett. My office. _Now,_ ” he says, thrusting a thick, stubby finger down the hall. “And _you,_ ” he says, his gray eyes flashing as he glares at Link. “ _Out._ ”

     Link’s gone before Rhett can even register it happening. He looks out the swinging screen door and sees Link full-out _running_. 

     “ _Now,_ Rhett. _Go._ ” 


	6. It's A Curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Sorry for the delay, folks! Thanks for sticking around. As usual, this chapter is inspired by Wolf Parade's song [It's A Curse](https://youtu.be/BxGRBwjSBwE?list=PLHHo8v802YjMcmBPUr_SpAH4jw0tRsDX0) and sort of loosely ( _loosely_ ) inspired by the prompt **Slow** for the [Rhink Summer Ficathon 2k17](https://rhinkficathons.tumblr.com)!
> 
>   
>  [[img](https://lnt.org/blog/search-fireflies-part-iii)]

     “Sit down,” Jim says to Rhett as he closes his office door behind him. It feels like there’s a stone in Rhett’s throat and his ghost is bouncing around wildly inside his chest, looking for an escape. He gingerly lowers himself into the arm chair, sweaty palms leaving darkened marks on the knees of his shorts. He chews the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes the faint, metallic tinge of blood on his tongue; eyes glazing over and staring unfocused on an ungraded _Wills & Estates_ exam on the desktop. Jim sits in the chair behind the desk with his brows furrowed and his lips pressed into a tight, straight line. He clears his throat. “I’ve heard some things,” he says.  
     “Things?” Rhett asks, feigning innocence even though he dreads the answer. Jim nods.  
     “Things about you, uh— _fraternizing_ — with Link.” Rhett mentally fills in the gaps with words he’d rather not hear come out of his father’s mouth. He swallows hard and stares down at his hands on his knees, too stunned to be able to reply. “It’s not— it ain’t right, son. It's not natural,” Jim continues, but a dull buzzing fills Rhett’s ears until it becomes a roar, drowning his voice out until it’s barely a whisper. He’s still talking but it barely registers. “I don’t know where I went wrong,” Jim sighs, rubbing a hand over his head. “Your brother just got married and he just got accepted into seminary. Theresa’s _pregnant,_ for Heaven’s sake. How are you going to give me any grandchildren if you don’t get married and have a wife? Don’t you want that? A _normal_ life with a family? Like your brother?”

     “Dad,” Rhett says, his voice flat but steady.  
     “Your mother’s been crying off and on all weekend. Is that what you want? To hurt your mother?”  
     “Dad,” Rhett repeats.  
     “Maybe I should’ve insisted that you kept doing basketball. That’s a healthy thing for a young man— competition and a group of good role models to hang around. Something to keep you on the straight and narrow.” Rhett can see his dad babbling; grasping at straws.  
     “ _Dad._ ” Rhett thumps his fist down on the table and wills himself to stare his father dead in the eyes. Jim finally pauses, his eyes wide with trepidation. “ _Dad._ This _isn’t about you_. It’s not about _you,_ or mom, or Cole— it’s not about anybody but me and Link.”

     “Listen, boy,” Jim says, suddenly coming down hard. “If you’re— you’re gonna— gonna be— _getting fresh_ around town, you’re affecting more people than just you and that Neal boy. Are you so selfish? People are gonna talk. They already are, son. What’s the pastor gonna say?”  
     “What d’you _want_ me to say, dad?” Rhett asks, feeling bile surge up his throat. “I’m _happy._ I don’t know what you want from me!” His voice shakes as it rises.  
     “I _want_ my son to have a normal life!” Jim’s face flushes red and sweat beads at his temples. “I want grandchildren! I want your mother to stop _crying_ , for goodness sake. I don’t want to hear people whispering when I walk into the corner store. And I don’t want my son to be— to be a _pansy_ , do ya hear?!”

     Something snaps in Rhett and he pushes himself backwards in the chair, the feet scratching deep lines into the hardwood floor with a deafening screech. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you then,” he spits. He nearly pulls the office door off its hinges as he rips it open. He pounds down the hall to his bedroom, his blood burning as it pulses through his veins; in his ears. He hears his father calling out after him but he only answers by slamming his bedroom door closed so hard that he thinks he might’ve cracked it. He feels like a bomb, ready to detonate, ready to annihilate everything around him. He sees his basketball trophies, dozens of them, perched delicately on a long bracketed shelf that spans the distance of the wall. Each one, coated in cheap golden lacquer, a symbol of the son he was supposed to be. He takes an open palm and swipes them to the ground, plastic cracking and snapping as limbs of the little figurines go flying. It’s not enough, it’s not even close to enough. He smashes his fist into the wall, wincing as his knuckles break through the drywall as easily as they’d tear through tissue paper. His hand burns red-hot and he feels the prickling of broken capillaries and a bruise forming.  
     “ _Fuck,_ ” Rhett yells, but his rage is tinged with anguish and a sob wracks his body. “Fuck,” he says again, choked this time. He grabs a change of clothes and stuffs them in his backpack. He moves on auto-pilot, his feet taking him down the stairs and into the blessedly empty kitchen where he grabs his keys and wallet. He doesn’t know where he’s headed, but he hops into the Dynasty and speeds off.

     He’s got no destination. He drives five whole minutes to the dark edge of town, putting his car in park and takes a long look at nothing. He doesn’t know where to go. He just wants to pick Link up and drive west until they run out of land, but going over to Link’s house seems out of the question; he doesn’t think he’d be able to look Sue in the eye if he tried. Gossip travels faster than a grassfire and he’s sure she’s heard by now. He slams his fist against the steering wheel and immediately regrets it— the hot sting of pain welling up at the base of his knuckles from where he’d hit the wall before. He hopes it isn’t broken. He feels pathetic, cradling his busted hand against his chest, no plan, all alone, trying not to cry. The highway drones endlessly in the distance, little lights careening down the open road. He closes his eyes and gently lets his forehead rest against the steering wheel.

     He breathes mindfully; in through the nose and out through the mouth, trying to pull himself together. He looks at the empty passenger seat and he knows Link’s ghost is there, keeping him company. He feels a wash of comfort come over him at the thought. _The world is messed up,_ he thinks. _But I can make it as long as I’ve got Link with me._ And it’s obvious what he’s got to do then. He’s got to get to Link.

     He starts the engine and turns his car around, accelerating hard once he hits the pavement.

     He cuts through the center of town and sees his gas light flashing on his dashboard. The gas station is just at the next intersection, so he pulls off the road and up next to the pump. He checks his wallet as he’s refuelling and stops the meter at fifteen bucks, pulling a twenty out and tucking the folded leather back into his pocket as he makes his way into the small hut.

     Rhett’s mama always said that if you were the bearer of bad news, you might as well be the bearer of somethin’ real nice to make up for it. He peruses the aisles looking for a peace offering to give to Sue and groans at the selection. Chips. Sweets. Beef jerky and pepperoni sticks. Nothing really screams “I’m sorry that some loudmouth banshee caught your son with my dick in his mouth, but I really, really love him.” He scratches at the patch of fuzz on his chin, wishing he was at a Hallmark or the mall, or literally anywhere but the Buies Creek gas station. But something hits him. _Chocolate._ Sue loves chocolate. He scoops up one of every bar, and a few ice creams while he’s at it. It's not much, but it’s all he’s got and it’ll have to do.

     The pimply faced teenager at the register eyes him up and down when he unloads his hoard onto the counter.  
     “Gas?” he asks with a lisp and a crack of his gum.  
     “Yeah,” Rhett replies. “Pump four.”

     The clerk punches in his chocolates and rings in his gas, glaring at him all the while. “Twenty-oh-nine,” he says with another snap of his Juicy Fruit. Rhett drops his bill onto the countertop and digs deep inside his pocket and scrapes out a dime.  
     “Thanks,” Rhett says briefly as he collects the bag and makes his way toward the door.  
     “ _Fuckin’ queer,_ ” he hears the teenager mutter under his breath. It hits Rhett like a freight train and he stops dead in his tracks. He spins around with his brows furrowed and his jaw wrenched open.  
     “ _What?_ ” he asks, aghast. “What’d you just say?”  
     “Huh?” the teen says with a shrug and a pooched lip. “Nothin’.” Rhett’s bruised hand throbs as he clenches it around the loops of his plastic bag. He wants to rush the counter and deck him; beat the living daylights right out of him and smash the simpering smile right off his face. But he doesn’t. He shakes his head and shoots the kid a revolted scowl and walks out the glass door with nothing but the gentle dingle of a bell to bid him farewell.

     He turns off his headlights as he pulls onto Link’s street. It’s not the safest move, but he wants to arrive unannounced. He sees the warm yellow glow peeking through Link’s living room curtains, but there’s no sign of movement. He can’t tell if Sue’s home, or if Link is either for that matter. He stares hard, looking for the movement of a shadow, the flash of a TV screen, anything, _anything_ to give him a clue of what might be going on inside. But there’s nothing. Nothing but the constant honey glow from behind the lacy, white drapes.

     Rhett closes his eyes and steels himself. He’s gonna do it. He’s gonna march right up to the front door and he’s gonna tell Sue that he loves Link and he’ll do anything to be with him. He’ll thrust his chocolate consolation into her hands and whisk Link away into the night. He’ll— his avalanche of thoughts is interrupted by a gentle rapping at his driver’s window. His eyes rip open and he sees Link bent over and peering at him with his eyebrow cocked and a confused look on his face.  
     “What’re you doin’, man?” Link asks. Rhett gently thrusts the door open and climbs onto his feet, immediately accepted into the warm embrace of Link’s arms. He buries his face into the crook of Link’s neck and breathes him in deep— so deep he can taste Link’s ghost seeping through his pores and follicles. He’s so wrapped up in Link that he doesn’t even notice the chartreuse flashes of fireflies dancing in the tall grass; bright little orbs bobbing light as feathers in the humid air of dusk. “You okay?” Link asks when he doesn’t receive an answer. Rhett latches on tighter, pulling Link flush against his chest. “Rhett?”  
      “I’m— I’m… I dunno, Link.”  
     “I’m sorry I ran, Rhett. I was just— I was scared and I didn’t know—”  
     “Shh,” Rhett says, placing a firm kiss onto the straining tendon in Link’s neck. “Shh. It’s… it’ll be alright.” He finally breaks away from Link, his eyes scanning the house ahead of him. The door is wide open, the golden light from within spilling onto the pavement. “Your mom,” he prattles. “Is she— is she…?”  
     “Gone to work,” Link says, his fingertips pressing into the tops of Rhett’s shoulders. Rhett lets out a quiet sigh of relief. “C’mon in,” Link says, dropping his hands and wrapping one up in Rhett’s.

     Rhett follows Link’s lead, off the street and into Link’s small bungalow. Once inside, Rhett plops himself into the La-Z-Boy in the living room, feeling the emotional exhaustion beginning to set in. Link curls up on the couch, one leg tucked underneath him.  
     “What’d he say?” Link asks. Rhett lets out a low breath and fills him in on the dirty details.

     “…And he called me a pansy,” he says. Link looks on with his eyebrows knitted together and his lips pressed shut, their corners plunged downward. “What about your mom?” Rhett asks. “Did she— did she say anything?”  
     “She knows,” Link replies. He picks at the skin beside his nail bed. “But she didn’t say anything. That’s how I know. She barely looked at me when I came home. Slapped dinner on the table and rushed around until she left for the hospital.” Rhett lets out a sigh and rubs his eyes with his clenched fists, flinching when his right twinges in pain.  
     “Aah, shit,” he hisses, blowing across his knuckles to cool the burning sting and bringing his hand close to his face to examine it for the bright purple bloom of bruising.  
     “What happened?” Link asks, suddenly worried, pulling himself up onto his knees.  
     “I— uhh, fuck. I punched a wall,” Rhett admits. “Put a hole right through it.”  
     “ _Rhett,_ ” Link says, scolding at first, but softening immediately. ”You okay?” he asks, getting to his feet and holding his hands out, palms up, waiting for Rhett to place his hand between them. When he does, Link lifts Rhett’s knuckles up, looks over the angry red blotches and places the gentlest kiss atop them.  
     “I’m— yeah. I’ll be alright,” he sighs. Link slowly lowers himself on top of Rhett, his knobby knees sinking into the cushion astride his hips. He takes Rhett’s hand, and lifts it up to caress the soft skin of his cheek, eyes fluttering closed.

     Rhett takes his free hand and cups the back of Link’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss, mouthing gently at his lips before dipping his tongue between them. Link drops Rhett’s hand and runs his fingertips over the short buzz of Rhett’s scalp, coming to rest lightly at the base of his skull and thumbs brushing along his jawline. Link lets out a quiet moan when Rhett’s hands skirt down his sides, fingers spreading wide and gripping him tightly along the sharp ridge of his hipbones. Link tastes like summer; like warmth and sunshine and freedom. The weight of him in his lap is grounding, keeping him safe secure. Rhett lays a line of kisses down Link’s neck, over his Adam’s apple and down into the base of his throat as Link throws his head back, feeling the heavy cadence of his pulse surging beneath his lips. It feels _good_. It feels good to be close to him, to touch him.  
     “This can’t be wrong,” Rhett says against the stubble of Link’s chin. “It can’t be wrong, can it? When it feels this good? When it feels this _right?_ ” He grips his hips tight and pulls Link close against him.  
     “No,” Link breathes. “It’s not, Rhett.” Link shifts his hips and Rhett can feel the stirrings of Link’s arousal pressing into his abdomen. “God, it can’t be,” Link groans before mouthing wetly behind Rhett’s ear.

     It’s a different game, then. Link rolls his hips and Rhett can’t help the deep-seated moan that gets squeezed from his chest. His hands creep up beneath the bottom hem of Link’s shirt and slide over every inch of skin that his fingertips can reach. His thumbs flick across the tiny nubs of Link’s nipples, fingers trail feather-light down the long groove of his spine. Link’s eyelids flutter and breathless words of affirmation slip between his lips and into Rhett’s ear. A strong hand wraps around Rhett’s chin and he finds Link’s mouth pressing into his own, wet tongue slippery as it paints a masterpiece onto his own. Rhett pulls Link’s hips down again, and the corners of his lips turn up when an “Oh, _fuck,_ ” comes tumbling out of Link’s mouth. Link pulls his shirt up and over his head and his lips and teeth go to work on the exposed skin of Rhett’s neck as his fingers work their way quickly down Rhett’s buttons.

     “You wanna…?” Link only partially asks, but he doesn’t need to finish the thought; the jerk of his head toward his bedroom and one cocked eyebrow says it all. Rhett steals another kiss, fast and hard, giving Link’s backside a firm squeeze.  
     “Yeah,” he says, his voice thick and low.

     Link slides off Rhett’s lap and he leans in to kiss him as he takes Rhett’s hands in his own, slowly helping pull Rhett to his feet. Link leads the way to his room, walking backwards with his mouth never leaving Rhett’s, hands snaking blindly along the walls and flicking off light switches as they go out of force of habit. When they reach Link’s room, Rhett shrugs his shirt off and doesn’t waste a minute to push Link backwards into his bed. Link’s knees fall open and Rhett fills the space between them, wanting to immerse himself in Link; to make it a point to cover every inch of his skin in his own.

     Rhett’s always been a selfish lover. He’s had girls go down on him and never even thought of returning the favor. He let them do as they pleased, which ended up pleasing him just fine, without much effort on his part. It’s part of the reason he’s told himself that he’s never quite gone all the way. He’s spent a lot of time on second base and would occasionally let a girl walk him to third, but never managed to make it all the way home. It seemed too messy; too unnecessary; and most of all, too intense and involved to want to commit to it. But with Link splayed out beneath him, chest heaving and eyes glazed over and lusty, Rhett wants to give and give and give. He wants Link to float up to cloud nine with his name on his lips the entire way.

     Rhett breathes Link in like it’s his last breath, big hands moving carefully down his ribcage, fingertips raking slowly through his treasure trail, hands shaking slightly as they pop open the button to his jeans and pull them down his spindly legs. He shifts off the bed, his knees pressed into the hard laminate flooring and he grabs Link by the thighs and drags him closer to the edge. His boxers come off in one fluid movement and Link stuffs a pillow beneath his head, his pupils blown and eyes wide as he watches as Rhett places soft kisses into each of his hipbones, wraps his hand around the base of Link’s cock. Link lets out a whine when Rhett’s lips wrap around the tip of his dick, hand sliding up and down the length. Rhett’s got a little mouth, and he quickly realizes his limitations as he tries to take Link in deep and triggers his gag reflex so strongly he worries that he might actually throw up.

     Link bites his lip as his eyes follow Rhett’s hand as it comes to wipe the string of saliva off his chin as he swallows hard and tries to squash the sensation of his stomach flip-flopping inside of him. He takes a deep breath through his nose and feels Link’s thumb caress his cheekbone. It’s all he needs to try again, lips and tongue lapping at the warm, silky flesh. He cups Link’s balls and has to hold back a smile when he sees Link’s head dip backwards into the pillow, his chin pointed sky-high and Adam’s apple plunging up and down. He settles into a rhythm— not too quick, but offering just enough pressure to make Link’s ribcage ripple and bend into the mattress. Link’s hips begin to come up off the bed to meet him, so he hooks his thumbs around his hip bones and gently keeps him pinned down. Link’s babbling, lips breathing out half-formed words, punctuated with simpering profanities. Rhett’s ghost is voracious, insatiable, and he wants to see Link’s eyelids flicker and his cheeks flush and this fingers bite into the bedding.

     “Link,” Rhett husks, finally pulling away from Link’s dripping cock and pulling himself up onto the bed beside him. “I wanna— I wanna…” He finds it difficult to say the words, but Link’s nodding and his fingers wrap around the curves of Rhett’s head as he mouths at his collarbones.  
     “Yeah, Rhett,” Link mumbles. “Yes. I wanna do it, too. Please.” Link’s hands rush to undo Rhett’s shorts and he uses his feet to help push them down Rhett’s legs, boxers and all. Link wraps his legs around Rhett’s hips and grinds into him, his bottom lip sucked in between his teeth, a look of blind lust and tenacity painted plainly across his face. Rhett lets out a groan when Link manipulates his body, Rhett’s cock sliding up between Link’s cheeks. “Oh, fuck,” Link moans, his fingertips pressing ten tiny bruises into Rhett’s shoulders. “Please, Rhett.”

     “How do we— How do I…?” Rhett stutters. He’s vaguely familiar with the procedure for someone with a vagina, having seen his share of porno mags and VHS cassettes pilfered from Cole’s bedroom. But the technicalities seem a bit different with a guy.

     “You stick it in and fuck me, brother,” Link says, a little laugh blowing against Rhett’s ear.  
     “ _God,_ ” Rhett breathes; a fervent prayer into the ether. He rolls Link onto his back and shifts himself on his knees between Link’s spread thighs, taking his cock into one hand and holding himself up over Link with the other. “You ready?” he asks, and Link surges up to kiss him, wet and hungry.  
     “Yeah,” Link husks, his hands sliding down Rhett’s back until they hook around his hips and pull him close.

     Rhett swallows hard as he meets Link’s eyes and gives him a nod and another quick peck on the lips. He lines himself up with Link’s opening and pushes forward— watching closely as Link’s eyes press closed. He makes no headway, cock straining against Link’s tightly clenched hole.  
     “You gotta relax,” Rhett says, dipping his head down and mouthing at Link’s neck.  
     “I _am_ relaxed,” Link snaps back, but he takes a deep breath and Rhett can feel the muscles in Link’s neck slacken a little beneath his lips. Rhett tries to ease his cock inside again, but it’s an impenetrable barricade, clamped shut.  
     “I don’t think you know _how_ to relax, man,” Rhett says with a small laugh. “It’s not gonna happen, Link. Too tight.”  
     “Just— just _do it,_ Rhett,” Link huffs, tightening his legs around Rhett’s waist and pulling him in tight. He’s wanton and impatient, and Rhett hates to disappoint, but he pries Link's thighs off his midsection and slides off the bed.

     “Unless… unless you’ve got some lotion or something? Something slippery? I know you were jerkin’ it in here like crazy, or else you wouldn’t’ve asked that bio teacher if you’d run out of sperm,” Rhett laughs, beginning to poke through the drawer of Link’s bedside table.  
     “Shut up,” Link groans with an embarrassed smile, the warm blush in his cheeks moving up his temples and down his neck. “In my sock drawer,” he says. Rhett roots through Link’s neatly folded socks and finds the small tube within. He drops it on the bed and grabs Link by the thighs, pulling him to the edge of the bed again.

     “Lemme try something,” Rhett says, finding his familiar place kneeling on the floor. He throws Link’s legs over his shoulders and takes the small tube, squeezing a dollop onto the tip of his middle finger. Link jerks when he touches it to his hole. “You alright?” Rhett asks, his other hand coming to wrap around the base of Link’s cock.  
     “Mhm,” Link keens in reply, high pitched and throaty.

     Rhett swirls his finger in little circles, up and down. He listens closely as Link’s breath hitches in his throat and starts to slick his hand up and down his cock, nice and slow, teasing and soft. He squeezes another drop onto his fingertip and gently begins to sink his finger into the ring of muscle. He sees the muscles in Link’s stomach tense, so he drops a line of kisses onto Link’s thigh.  
     “Breathe, Link. You gotta breathe.” He gets up to the first knuckle and he waits, watching Link’s chest rise and fall, his stomach soften.

     He glides his hand up and down Link’s cock, with a little kiss to the head and then laps at the tip as he slides his finger in further. Link lets out a long moan when Rhett pulls back, and a louder moan when he plunges it back in. He takes it easy with long, slow strokes, and wet licks to Link’s cock. Before long, his finger is sliding in and out easily, resistance long gone, and incoherent babbling spilling from Link’s lips. He lines his index finger up with his middle with another fat drop of lotion and begins to press the second digit in along with the first.  
     “Oh my God,” Link says, suddenly loud and clear, his fingernails clawing into his sheets.  
     “You okay?” Rhett asks, relieving the pressure a little and drawing back a bit.  
     “Don’t stop,” Link whispers, one hand coming down to rake over Rhett’s buzz. “More.”

     Rhett obliges. He presses in, firm but slow, with two fingers and wraps his lips around the tip of Link’s cock as he begins to rock his hand. Link’s thighs quake, draped over his shoulders, and Rhett sees the sheen of sweat break out over his chest and stomach. He twists his wrist, rotating his fingers inside of him, earning himself a gasp and a guttural groan. Another drop of lotion, and he slides his fingers out to the tips and in to the knuckles with ease.  
     “Harder,” Link says, his voice gravelly and coarse in his throat. “Faster.”

     Caution goes out the window, then. He pushes his fingers in as far as they’ll go, pulls them out and slams them back inside.  
     “Fuck, Rhett,” Link chokes out, his entire body shaking with the force of Rhett’s hand. “Yeah, just like that. Holy _shit._ ” Rhett pounds away, his tongue kept busy with the cock in his mouth, hand jerking up and down the shaft, fingers buried in Link’s ass. He sees Link’s face and neck flushing a deep red, jaw slack, and eyes rolling back in his head. He doubles down, fingers thrusting, his head bobbing, trying to just tip Link far enough over the ledge to send him crashing down.

     Even though he’s watching for the signs, eyes searching out every detail, when Link comes it catches Rhett by surprise. Link lets out a cry and his stomach spasms, ass clenching down around his fingers, and spurts of warm, salty come fill Rhett’s mouth. It’s not especially unpleasant, Rhett thinks, and he swallows it down, slowing the rocking of his fingers, the pumping of his hand. When he pulls out, Link rolls onto his side, knees coming up against his chest as he pants, muscles twitching and convulsing as the aftershocks of his orgasm rip through him.

     Rhett crawls up onto the bed, suddenly registering the aching in his knees. He curls up behind Link, pulling the covers up and over the two of them, raining kisses over the curve of Link’s neck, his shoulder. Link hums and his hand seeks out Rhett’s, weaving their fingers together. Rhett closes his eyes and listens as Link’s breath evens out, from heavy gulps of air to quiet puffs. His ghost feels satiated; relaxed and at peace.

     “Rhett. _Wow,_ ” Link says after a long beat. “Lemme do you now.” Link shifts in his arms until they’re facing one another. Rhett smiles and presses a kiss into Link’s forehead.  
     “Not tonight,” he says. “Get some sleep.”

     Just as Rhett’s on the precipice of falling into a deep slumber, Link pipes up again. “How’s your hand?” Rhett chuckles but doesn't manage to lift his eyelids.  
     “Guess it ain’t broken.”

     

     The next morning Rhett is almost fifteen minutes late for work upon discovering a wet, sticky bag of melted chocolate ice cream on his passenger seat. He swears loudly and quietly sneaks back into Link’s house to get a wet paper towel. While he’s rummaging through the cabinets, Link slinks into the kitchen, boxers slung low across his hips. He saunters in behind him, wrapping his arms around his stomach and resting his cheek against the flat plane between his shoulders.

     “Have a good day at work,” Link calls as Rhett heads out the door. He leans lazily against the jamb as Rhett makes his way down the pathway, walking backwards with a big, goofy grin tugging at the apples of his cheeks and the corner of his eyes. “Love you!” Link says. It’s loud, loud enough for someone to hear if they were out walking the dog or collecting the paper.  
     “Love you too,” Rhett calls back, sliding into the driver’s seat of the Dynasty. It’s a dangerous move, but it’s a risk he’s willing to take.


	7. This Heart's on Fire (Part I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, sorry for the extended delay, folks, but thanks for coming back to check out this update. Grad school is a bitch. This is only half of the chapter that I intended to write but since it's been so long, I thought I'd at least post what I've got just to fill the void until I can find the time to finish it! This chapter draws some loose inspiration from Wolf Parade's song [This Heart's on Fire](https://youtu.be/6KdzCCfRZ_I) (but the real inspiration will come in to play in Part II).
> 
>   
> [[img](http://cfra-nc.org/water-quotes/)]

     “Two bed, one bath, heat and light and balcony included, two parking passes, laundry down the hall, no pets, no smoking… It’s a bargain for five-fifty,” the realtor rattles off casually, ticking bullet points off his fingers as he gestures at the cool-white walls of the third floor apartment. “You NC State boys?” he asks, continuing once he receives a pair of nods. “Well, campus is just around the bend, y’all can walk in fifteen or be there in two if you’re driving. When you boys looking for? September first?”

     Rhett shoots a pointed glance, his eyes begging for Link to confirm that this is what he wants. Link takes a deep breath and nods.  
     “Yeah, the first,” Link says. Rhett’s ghost drops a weight that he didn’t know it’d been carrying and it soars up, fluttering at the base of his throat. “You mind if we— if we take a look around? Just the two of us?” Link asks the realtor.  
     “Not a problem,” he says with a shrug. “I’ll wait out in the hall.”

     The space isn’t huge, but it’s more than enough for the two of them. The ceilings are high and Rhett doesn’t need to duck underneath door frames when he walks from room to room. His hand seeks out Link’s and he clasps it, fingers interlocked tightly.  
     “You like it?” Rhett asks nervously. Link’s eyes scan around the perimeters of the living room, scrutinizing. It’s a wide, open space. A big window. Bright. Slowly, he begins to nod.  
     “I like it.”

     Link tugs on Rhett’s hand and pulls him into the kitchen. It’s a bit cramped but there’re lots of cabinets.  
     “Not much counter space,” Link says, his free hand smoothing over the laminate countertop. “But neither of us do much cooking,” he says, his eyes alight. “I guess one of us is gonna have to learn.”

     The balcony is small, only a few feet deep, and the view isn’t great— parking lots and other apartment complexes— but there’s a peek of the park in the distance and the median between the lanes of the road is lined with lush oak trees. Rhett thinks he could probably squeeze a small grill and a basic set of patio chairs out there. It wouldn’t be much, but it’d be theirs. Link leans out onto the railing with his elbows and looks into the distance, the wind ruffling his grown-out, bleached hair. Rhett wraps his arms around Link’s middle, sucking in a breath near Link’s ear. He doesn’t say anything— he doesn’t need to. It’s been a long, hot, hard summer. But it’s almost over.

     They don’t linger too long on the balcony. The bathroom is basic but the fixtures are shiny and well-maintained; the shower is big with sliding glass doors and a full tub, not that Rhett would fit inside it, anyway.

     The spare room is on the small side, nothing to write home about, but Rhett thinks they could fit in two desks facing one another, a bookshelf, and if they’re thrifty, they could fit a computer in there too. Link was always the more frugal of the two. He’ll leave the budgeting up to him.

     Link lets out an almost imperceptible gasp when they enter the master bedroom. There’s nothing in it, just four white walls, a window, and a basic closet, but there’s so much _space_. More than either of them are used to. Link’s smile cracks his face as he takes Rhett’s hands and walks backward into the center of the room. Rhett can’t help but smile back, pulling Link flush against his body.  
     “This is where the magic happens, huh?” he asks. He sees Link’s eyes flick down to his lips and back up again. It’s not a question but a request, and Rhett leans in to kiss him. Link’s lips are warm and sweet and they taste like promise— like possibilities and potential. His tongue is silky and confident, sure and calculated. When Rhett breaks the kiss, Link pulls himself away and runs his fingers through Rhett’s hair and smooths out the wrinkles on his shirt with a debonair grin.  
     “We shouldn’t keep him waiting,” Link says, turning his back to Rhett and making his way toward the front door of the apartment.

     “We’ll take it,” Link says as the heavy steel door clicks shut behind him. “Where do we sign?”

***

     The six o’clock August sun still burns hot as Rhett’s car rumbles to a stop near the path down to the Cape Fear River. Link’s stretched out in his passenger seat, hips twisted to avoid the sticky, sweet stain soaked into the nylon upholstery. The humidity is thick and heavy as they sink in between the trees and out of the sun, as if they’re wading through a dense, moist cloud. The sound of the river gurgling and babbling in the distance beckons them like a homing device, pulling them closer with every step toward the cool, dark water.

     Rhett freezes as he hears the sound of laughing and yelling from their secret swimming spot. Two voices, male. He holds a hand back and against Link’s chest, urging him to stop and listen, just for a moment, before they reveal themselves. It’s too hot not to at least get their feet wet, no matter the company.

     The voices seem familiar, which could be a blessing or a curse, but Rhett pushes forward anyway, his footing slow and hesitant as he and Link breach the barrier of trees and onto the loamy banks. He sees two heads bobbing in the murky waters and quickly recognizes them as Ben and Will Thomas. Rhett hasn’t seen the Thomas brothers since the night of the bonfire. He’s always liked them, the Thomases, but it seems like the entire climate of Buies Creek has changed in just a few short weeks and he isn’t sure that they’ll be welcome. He clears his throat. The two heads snap over toward them on the shore.

     “Neal! McLaughlin! What you two doin’ over there just standin’ around? Get in the water!” Ben calls out, and a whoop, a holler, and a splash follow closely.

     Link casts a slight reassuring smile at Rhett before he averts his eyes and begins to pull his shirt up and over his head, his shorts pooling at his ankles. Rhett does the same and before long he’s rushing headlong off the shore and cannonballing into the water, a huge splash following in his wake. The river is cool and refreshing, and instantly washes away the sticky sheen that had been clinging to his skin all day.

     “Haven’t seen you two in ages!” Will says, his shoulders barely peeking out as he treads water. “Where you been?” Rhett makes eye contact with Link and there’s a tense moment where he’s not truly sure what the answer is. They haven’t attended any social gatherings since the blow up at the Thomases farm, choosing instead to spend their time in one another’s company. It just seemed safer that way. Link fills in the silence.  
     “Just laying low, man,” he says, running his hand through his wet hair, the bleached ends nearly grown completely out. “You know. Since… since…” He trails off with a cough.

     The static spark of silent understanding crackles over the water. “So, you two… like an item, then?” Ben asks. Rhett’s ghost treads water precariously in his stomach, poised to bolt at the first sign of danger. But Ben doesn’t seem angry or judgemental, just genuinely curious. So Rhett leaps.  
     “I mean. I guess. Something like that,” he says, his eyes never quite leaving Link’s face and Link gives a barely perceptible nod in return. The awkwardness is palpable, a thick air of tension settling over the small group.

     Ben takes a deep breath and pushes off his foothold, slowly floating to his back, chest and toes poking out onto the surface. “Man, I don’t care guys. Don’t affect me none,” he says, his eyes gently resting closed as he begins to drift downstream. Will follows suit and begins to bob after his brother, arms spread wide and palms facing toward the sky.  
     “We known you guys since we was kids tusslin’ around in the dirt. The two of you, always connected at the hip,” Will says dreamily, his voice getting smaller as he floats further and further away. “Shoulda seen it coming for a long time, really.”

     Link swims up to Rhett’s side and their hands find each other under the water, coming together with a tight squeeze. Link gently tugs Rhett’s hand until they’re following Ben and Will down the river, eyes closed and floating aimlessly down the rippling stream.

     It’s nearly pitch black by the time four boys manage to crawl onto the slippery banks, exhausted and refreshed. When Rhett pulls up in front of Link’s house to drop him off, he bids him a quiet goodbye with a yawn and a lazy, wet kiss.

***

     Ever since they came back home from their idyllic mountain retreat, Sue had inexplicably been taken off the graveyard shift and worked days exclusively. Whether at her own request or by some sort of cruel cosmic injustice, Link wasn’t sure, but it had certainly meant that their sleepovers at Link’s house had become a thing of the past, and Rhett missed them. He missed the quiet hours laid up next to Link and he missed the way Link's body wriggled under his hands. He even missed Link helping him take care of his blue balls in the the morning— a quick and dirty hand job before he had to leave for work. He might’ve missed breakfast, but it was worth it every time.

     Occasionally, though, Sue’d work a weekend shift and that meant they'd have a few hours to steal away in the comfort and privacy of Link’s house, because Rhett’s own always had a few bodies mingling within— his parents, visiting neighbors, and the occasional visit from Cole and his increasingly more and more pregnant sister-in-law, Theresa.

     One lazy afternoon, on their third re-run of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, Rhett lays sprawled on the couch, his calves hanging over the armrest and his head cushioned in the warm nest of Link’s lap. Link’s fingers trace patterns through his short buzz, over the crown of his head, dancing behind his ears, and down the line of his jaw. He’s so relaxed and comfortable that his eyes begin to drift closed and the sounds of Will and Carlton carrying on fade into white noise until his entire world narrows down to the slight scratching of Link’s fingernails on his scalp, Link’s quiet breathing. He’s on the precipice of a nap, moments away from nodding off completely, when Sue comes waltzing through the front door.

     Rhett shoots up and out of Link’s lap, eyes blinking away sleep furiously as he puts a foot of space between he and Link. He quickly tugs his shirt down from where it had ridden up and tries and fails to look like he hadn’t been sleeping in her son’s lap. Rhett glances guiltily between Sue, Link, and the TV, racking his brain for something witty to say, something to diffuse the situation. When he comes up short, he makes a move to dash to the bathroom, anything, _anything_ to get him out of Sue’s critical gaze.

     “Don’t you go nowhere,” Sue says, holding out a finger to stop him. She’s still in her scrubs and her white tennis shoes and she gingerly lowers herself into the La-Z-Boy beside them, sighing with relief when she lifts the footrest. Rhett shifts uncomfortably and tucks his hands in between his knees. “Listen here, boys,” Sue starts. “I know what the two of you are up to and you ain’t gotta try and hide it from me.” Link shoots Rhett a wide-eyed look and then turns back to his mother.

     “You know,” Sue says with a dreamy laugh. “I remember the day your father and I brought you home for the very first time,” she says with a pointed look at Link. “You were such a perfect little baby. And you grew up to be such a perfect little boy, too, always laughin’ and smilin’ even if things with your father and Jimmy and me ended up bein’ so sour. Nothin’s ever made me happier than bein’ your mama and nothin’ can ever change how I feel about my little Link.” When Rhett finally looks over at Link he can see the tears threatening to spill from his eyes and the way his hands tremble in his lap. “And Rhett,” Sue says, looking over the thin wire frames of her glasses. “You’ve always been there for him, even when I couldn’t be, workin’ or whatever. I oughta thank you for that.”

     Rhett coughs slightly and when he manages to squeak out a quiet “No, no need, ma’am,” his voice cracks completely but Sue hushes him anyway.

     “I can’t say that I understand it, truly, or that I know why you two are the way that you are. But you boys are growin’ up in a different world than I did when I was your age. Things are changin’ faster than I can wrap my head around, I’ll admit. I’m a simple woman, boys, and I don’t know much, but I’m just glad that you two have each other.”

     Sue moves to pull herself out of the recliner with a soft groan, leaving both Rhett and Link speechless and shocked in her wake. Rhett has to remind himself to shut his mouth as she approaches them, dropping a kiss into the top of Link’s head first, before giving Rhett a patient smile and kissing the top of his head, too.

     “I’ll leave you boys be,” she says, walking down the hallway toward the kitchen. “Link, honey?” she calls out behind her.  
     “Ye—yeah ma?”  
     “Dinner’s ready at six. You can stay if you want to too, Rhett.”

***

     After a gruelling 50 minute drive home from the DoT in the worst traffic Rhett’s ever seen, he’s agitated and grumbling at every lousy driver on the road. The Dynasty is running on fumes and he whispers a quiet prayer that he won’t run out of gas before he putters to a complete and permanent stop. Finally, the gas station pulls into view and Rhett thanks his lucky stars that he’s not stuck hitchhiking with a five gallon jug of gasoline.

     He glides up next to the gas pump, engine sputtering with nothing more than hope, and he finally pushes the brakes and turns the motor off. He fills the tank all the way, not wanting to risk another close call this week, and pays the familiar pimple-faced teenager at the counter. Rhett keeps his hands clenched at his sides and tries not to make eye contact. Anything to get in and out faster, with as little trouble as possible.

     The little bell trills as he closes the door behind him and Rhett lets out a long breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He takes long steps across the hot pavement toward his car, but stops dead in his tracks when he sees a huge pickup pull up at the pumps. He glances into the front window and sees Clay Langdon and Stephanie Harwood. Steph’s eyes go wide when she sees Rhett and leans in to whisper something into Clay’s ear. She slides out of the truck gracefully and the door closes quietly behind her. She never takes her eyes off Rhett, even as she approaches him, dainty steps on gas-stained concrete.

“Hey, Rhett,” Steph says once she’s just a few feet away from him. Her weight shifts from foot to foot, her navy blue, floor-length pencil skirt swaying to reveal two thigh-high slits. Rhett feels tension rush through his body, hair standing up all the way down the length of his spine and heat start to build up low in his stomach. His lips pinch into a tight, straight line and he can’t help but glower down at her, even if he can’t will himself to say anything to her. “I— uh, I haven’t seen you in a while,” Steph says meekly. Her eyebrows knit together with fine lines appearing on her normally smooth forehead and a faint blush dusting the top of her cheeks. Rhett just stares her down, unwilling to break or budge. “Listen,” she tries again. “I’m— I just wanna say I’m sorry for how I acted at the bonfire. I shouldn’t’ve— I shoulda— I’m—”  
     “No,” Rhett cuts her off. “You shouldn’t have.” He moves to step around her but he stops when he feels a little hand grip around his forearm.

     “Please,” she says with a hint of desperation in her voice. “Just hear me out. I was angry that you shrugged me off. I wanted something and when I realized that you weren’t gonna to give it to me, I lost it.” Rhett sees Clay slide out of the driver’s side of the pickup out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t approach, just grabs the gas pump and opens up the flap on the side of his vehicle. Steph’s hand tightens around his wrist, bringing Rhett’s attention back to her. “I was jealous, and I was mad that you picked someone who wasn’t me. And Link was an easy target. If it was Jessica or Amy I would’ve had to get a lot more creative. It was low of me. I’m so, so sorry.” Rhett shakes his head and looks at the Dynasty over her shoulder. “When Clay and I got together,” Steph continued, “he told me what good guys you and Link are. You guys went to Harnett Central together, right? And I just knew that I’d made a horrible mistake. And I must’ve made your lives really hard. I’m sorry. I really, really am.”

     There’s a part of Rhett that just wants to accept her apology and move along— brush past her and forget he’d ever seen her in the first place. But there’s another part of Rhett, a louder, angrier part of his ghost that just wants to unload on her, berate her and tell her just exactly how she’d fucked up his entire life; his relationship with his friends and his parents; how he’d never be able to walk through Buies Creek in the same way again or properly be with Link without fear of prejudice and hatred. He can’t seem to reconcile the two parts of himself, so he settles on saying nothing. He steels himself and lets his features harden like stone, and stares back down on her, deadpan.

     “I don’t expect you to forgive me, Rhett. But I just wanted you to know. I feel terrible. I’m sorry.”

     “Are you done?” Rhett asks after a beat. Steph’s grip loosens around his arm and her hand falls to her side.  
     “I’m— yeah. Yeah, I’m done.”  
     “Bye, Steph,” Rhett says, finally walking away from her and back towards his car. He gives Clay a curt nod and Clay returns it. He doesn’t look back at Stephanie, even as he’s pulling out onto the road.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on tumblr [@ratchetrhink](http://ratchetrhink.tumblr.com) if you're interested.
> 
> And as always, thank you so much for your likes, comments, kudos and reblogs. They make the effort put in worth it every time, you guys are incredible!! :3


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